Indiana Kit and the Light of Buddah
by Ghost Wrider 117
Summary: An Indiana Jones style adventure starring Kit and Sam.
1. Chapter 1 - Revelations

_The Indiana Jones franchise is owned by Paramount. I make no claims of rights or ownership to any names, characters, places, or events from said franchise, and have not profited from them in any manner whatsoever. Talespin and all related characters, places, and events is owned by Disney, and the same disclaimer applies. Except for Sam...she's all mine, but if Disney wanted to use her...well, I guess turnabout is fair play._

* * *

_While this story stands by itself just fine, there are subtleties the reader might miss or better understand with a little background. I recommend reading _Past and Future_ and, at minimum, Chapter 3, sections 3 and 4 of _Old Loves and New Flames_.  
_

_GW_

* * *

"Clear prop!"

Kit engaged the starter and the gleaming Hamilton Standard propeller rotated several times before the big Pratt caught and its 450 horses began an easy trot. He gave a thumbs up indicating he was ready to taxi and the rampie marshaled him out of the parking area. They exchanged a quick salute as he passed and then Kit keyed the push to talk switch on the stick.

"Decatur traffic, Stearman six five zero three eight taxing from parking to runway two three via alpha."

Kit was particularly fond of taildraggers because they were far more challenging than a tricycle gear airplane. He expertly s-turned down the taxiway. Stopping at the hold short line he ran through the before takeoff checklist, checked for traffic, and keyed the mike again.

"Decatur traffic, zero three eight taxing into position for takeoff, runway two three, Decatur."

He eased the big biplane onto the runway, and lined up on the centerline.

"You ready to see what this like new old bird can do?"

Sam raised both hands, thumbs pointed towards the sky. Her voice came through the intercom from the front cockpit.

"Let's do it!"

"Make sure that harness is tight. Here we go! Decatur traffic, zero three eight departing two three, Decatur."

Tailwheel locked, flight controls free and correct, a quick scan of the instrument panel, and a good rudder waggle to get his feet in the mood. A final tug on his own harness, stick back full, then smooth but quick application of the throttle and they started forward. He danced on the rudder pedals, watching carefully out the left side of the cockpit as they accelerated down the runway. He eased the stick forward as their speed built, kicking in a little extra right rudder as the tail came up, then fixed his eyes on the end of the runway now that he could see over the nose. Slowly, the airplane made its desire to be free of the ground known, and Kit eased the stick back just a little. The old bird rose gracefully off the ground. He settled in just above the runway, staying in ground effect and letting the airspeed build until they were scorching down the runway. As the threshold came rushing at them and the airspeed indicator hit 130 mph, Kit yanked the stick back into his lap. He heard Sam squeal with delight as they nosed up sharply, pulling close to 6 Gs. He kept the airplane in the near vertical climb, rolling through 720 degrees until his airspeed decayed below 90, then rolled over into a 45 degree left bank, and rolled out smoothly on the downwind leg.

"Well, that was different!" Sam said.

"It gets better. But I'm going to pay for this."

"How's that?"

"Baloo's gonna kill me when he finds out I got to fly this thing before him."

"Nah, he wouldn't do that. Maim, perhaps, but not kill."

"Yeah, well, that's only slightly more desirable."

"Well you've given him three months. I think you've got perfectly solid ground to stand on."

He guided them out over the open ocean to have plenty of free airspace to maneuver. He started with some simple maneuvers: wing overs, chandelles, and Cuban 8s. Then he worked them up to inside and outside loops, snap rolls, hammerhead stalls, and fully developed spins. Sam laughed the entire time.

"How's the stomach?"

"Just fine!" she replied.

"All right. I've got one more for you, then we'll head back."

"Already?"

"Trust me, fifteen or twenty minutes of this is the max you ever want to do."

"Okay, I trust you."

"All right, here we go."

He eased the nose down to pick up airspeed, then pulled into a steep climb, rolled left, kicked the left rudder in to the stop, and as they started to come around threw the stick forward, sending them tumbling through the sky in a full three-axis lomcevak. Sam was giddy.

"That was crazy!"

"You should see it from the ground. The airplane looks completely out of control. You think you can get us back?"

"You bet!"

"All right, you have the flight controls."

"Roger, I have the flight controls."

She guided them easily back to the airfield and made an impressive three-point landing, then expertly taxied to the parking area and shut the engine down. As they were climbing out of the cockpit, a small man in a dark business suit came running up to them.

"Miss Beckett! Miss Beckett!" He seemed quite frantic.

"What is it, Mr. Orr?" she asked.

As the man reported she pulled up her goggles, tugged off her gloves, and unraveled the silk scarf from around her neck.

"There's a man at the bank demanding to see you. I told him you were unavailable today, but he insists. He says it's very urgent and that he won't leave until he sees you."

Sam sighed as she pulled the leather aviator's cap from her head and attempted to smooth her mussed hair.

"Very well. Return to the bank and tell him I'll be along shortly." She looked at Kit. "I'm sorry, Kit. I'm afraid I have to take care of this."

"No problem. I understand."

He jumped down from the wing and Sam jumped down after him. She motioned to one of the rampies.

"Hey Josh, can you get her buttoned up and put away for me? I've got to tend to a situation at the bank."

"Sure thing, Sam." She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small stack of folded cash, fished for a ten, and handed it to him.

"Thanks a bunch."

"Happy to help."

She smiled at him and gave him a wink. "That's because I keep you happy."

"You sure do," he said, returning the smile.

She led Kit to her car, a pristine black Studebaker. "Hopefully, this won't take long," she said.

"This is your day, Sam. We'll spend it however you want to spend it. Or need, anyway."

The bank was only a few blocks away. Sam pulled around back and parked in the owner's space. Kit couldn't help but chuckle as they got out.

"What?"

He gestured towards her, indicating the baggy pocketed aviator's pants, calf-high black leather boots, and sheepskin lined leather flight jacket. "You don't exactly have the look of an executive."

"Yes I do. One who's been disturbed on her day off."

"Uh-oh, Miss Beckett's angry."

"Not angry…at least not yet. But definitely a little miffed."

They walked into the bank. Still being relatively early in the morning, the sun was streaming through the large east-facing windows and Kit elected not to remove his sunglasses. Mr. Orr was standing next to Sam's office speaking to a man seated on one of the plush leather wingback chairs facing away from them. He noticed them as they approached and gestured toward them. The man turned toward them and stood. Sam looked up at him. And up. He was Bengal Tiger and better than seven feet tall. He towered over Sam's 5'9 frame. He was older, lean almost to the point of being skinny, and dressed in an immaculate three-piece suit from John Phillips, London.

"Miss Beckett, may I present Mr. Amolatti Suscratchums," Orr intoned solemnly.

"Samantha Beckett, at your service."

He shook her hand once and let it go. "I was led to believe you would be a bit more," he pointedly looked over her attire, "Professional."

His voice was incredibly deep and his accent was decidedly Cambridge. Sam somehow managed to stare down at him despite his height advantage.

"Mr. Suscratchums, I am happily here to serve you on my day off, since you have chosen to conduct whatever urgent business you have without bothering to set up a proper appointment. And since you have called me away from my recreation to conduct this urgent business, I appear as I do when involved in that recreation. However, if my appearance bothers you that much, you are welcome to sit in one of these uncomfortable chairs for the next two hours while I go home, shower, change, and make myself up. Or you can speak to my assistant Mr. Orr here and make an appointment to see me _tomorrow_, when I will be dressed in attire appropriate to conducting business as the owner of this bank."

Suscratchums' eyebrows raised slightly. "You are right, of course, Miss Beckett. I apologize for my presumption and my rudeness."

Kit had the feeling that the man's slight had been solely to see her reaction and size her up.

"Consider it forgotten. Now, how may I help you?"

"I believe we should conduct our business in private."

"Very well. Step into my office, please."

She gave Kit a look of apology as she followed him in. She closed the door behind them and drew the blinds shut as she waited for Suscratchums to sit, then took her own seat behind her desk. Suscratchums looked around the office appreciatively.

Sam sat behind an immense Louis XIV desk trimmed in bronze with intricate gold and ivory inlays, and studded with jewels. To her left was a pristine 19th century English Regency breakfront, mirrored on the other side of the office by a medium sized side table dating from the Song Dynasty, also intricately inlaid, here with jade and ebony. Behind Sam was an elegant Victorian grandfather clock nearly as tall as Suscratchums.

"You seem to appreciate the décor," Sam commented.

"Yes, it is quite…impressive."

"It took my father nearly twenty years to acquire all of these pieces. Each had some type of personal connection to him."

"Yes well, I am here in part, to discuss another piece of archeological history that had some type of personal connection to your father."

This definitely got Sam's attention. Suscratchums reached into his suit jacket and produced an 8x10 envelope. He removed a photograph from it and slid it across the elegant desk towards Sam, who gasped when she saw it. Gingerly, she picked it up.

"I take it, from your reaction, that you know what it is."

The picture was of a wall covered with hieroglyphs, focusing on a drawing of a leopard in flowing robes, holding a small statuette that seemed to contain a blue ball of light.

"The Vessel of Gopala, named for it's likeness of the first ruler of the Pala empire from 750 to 770 AD. Shown here being held by King Devapala, who commissioned the artist Dhiman to sculpt it so that it would contain a great power. The Vessel is said to contain the Light of Buddha."

"Very good, Miss Beckett. Perhaps you will also recognize this photograph."

He slid another across the desk. Sam picked it up, inhaled sharply, and immediately dropped it.

"Again, from your reaction, I surmise you recognize him."

"Mr. Suscratchums, my professional courtesy is, at the moment, keeping me in my seat. That having been said, you now have about one minute to explain what you want before I come across this desk, grab you by your balls, and drag you out into the street."

"I understand that you might have heated emotions regarding Mr. Kane. But rest assured, I am not associated with either him or the other people involved in your father's death."

"What do you mean 'other people'?"

"Miss Beckett, John Michael Kane was not a random criminal, neither was his attempted robbery of your father's bank a random act, and what he desired from inside the safe out there had nothing to do with money."

Sam sat behind the desk, unmoving, in shock, though her expression belied merely deep thought. After a long moment she stood, went to the door, and opened it.

"If you please, Mr. Suscratchums, I need a few moments to confer with my associate."

"Of course." He levered himself out of the chair and exited the office, ducking under the doorframe.

"Mr. Cloudkicker, could I see you please?"

Kit kept his expression neutral as he passed the enormous tiger, but turned to Sam with concern, pushing his sunglasses up onto his forehead as she shut the door behind them. As soon as the latch clicked Sam threw herself into Kit's arms, trembling, attempting to muffle her choked sobs in his chest. Kit held her tightly, shushing and whispering nonsense words in her ear until her fit calmed a minute or so later. Kit took her face gently in his hands.

"Sam, what is it?"

She quickly filled him in on the conversation, promising to clear up the backstory as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

"I just…when he said Daddy had been _targeted_…I couldn't…it was too much." She hugged Kit tightly. "I'm so glad you're here."

He returned the embrace, which she broke in a moment.

"You don't mind staying with me for the rest of this, do you?"

"Not at all."

She returned to her desk, removed a kerchief from a drawer, and wiped her face and eyes. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, folded her arms in front of her, and raised her chin. The transformation from distraught young woman to calm and collected young executive was instantaneous. She nodded at Kit, who opened the door.

"Mr. Suscratchums?"

No doubt from years of practice, he managed to maintain every bit of his bearing as he ducked through the doorway.

"Mr. Cloudkicker will be joining the rest of our discussion."

She glanced over at him. He had pulled his sunglasses back down and adopted a chiseled in stone expression that even championship poker players would have been jealous of. Though certainly not anywhere close to being the size of Suscratchums, Kit stood well over six two. Broad in the shoulders and narrow at the waist, he still had the body of the star track and field athlete he had been in high school. He cut an imposing figure, even if Suscratchums was too large to consider him intimidating. After he closed the door, he took up an arms-crossed standing position behind Sam's left shoulder. She hadn't given any consideration to what Kit's bearing ought to be, but when she saw this, she realized that it struck the perfect chord.

"He advises me on matters that are, shall we say, outside the ordinary. I think this qualifies."

"Might I presume, then, that my balls are no longer in peril?" Suscratchums asked, somewhat sarcastically, as he sat.

"Immediate peril, yes. Now you obviously have some information regarding my father's murder that is not known to the authorities. How you came to possess this information is of particular interest to me."

"I represent a group of cultured individuals who, like your father, believe the legend that the Vessel of Gopala does indeed contain the Light of Buddha. And that in the wrong hands, it would endanger the entire world. Your father believed it to be a power too terrible for anyone to possess. He intended to find it, and either find a way to destroy it, or drop it into the deepest chasm the ocean had to offer."

"Section 31. Yes, I'm aware of all this."

"Though he had his differences with us, he recognized the urgency of finding the artifact before it falls into either Communist or Socialist control. Or worse, the control of some independent interest that might have goals that are unfathomable and unpredictable to the world at large. So we sometimes shared information we considered to be mutually beneficial."

Sam sighed. "Yes. Mr. Suscratchums, I know."

"Moving on, then. Do you recall a business trip to Hong Kong that your father took roughly eighteen months ago?"

"Yes."

"At the end of that trip, he traveled briefly to Cambodia, to the site of the ancient city of Angkor. We believe that, while there, he obtained a map that would lead to the exact location of the Vessel."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "And you believe that this map is what John Michael Kane was looking for when he murdered my father?"

"Precisely."

"So then you must also believe, since you're here, that I would have access to this map even if I had no prior knowledge of it."

"Perhaps not directly. But in some manner, yes."

"And pretending for a moment that I just happened to have it here in one of these desk drawers, what would you expect me to do with it?"

Suscratchums shifted his weight in his seat, for the first time appearing uncomfortable.

"You are direct, aren't you, Miss Beckett?"

"Yes, I am. And you haven't answered my question. But to save you from having to lie to me, you would expect me to hand it over. Yes?"

"Well, I'm sure we could come to some arrange-"

Sam stood abruptly, palms flat on her desk. "Mr. Suscratchums, I thank you for your time and your information. You may see Mr. Orr on your way out and leave any contact information you wish. Good day."

"Now, Miss Beckett-."

Kit cleared his throat and took a step forward, keeping his arms crossed. Suscratchums glowered at him and stood. He inclined his head in Sam's direction. "A pleasure meeting you, Miss Beckett. Hopefully we will have further business in the future."

He regarded Kit icily. "Mr. Cloudkicker."

Suscratchums turned and left the office, closing the door behind him. Kit let his breath out in a rush and collapsed into the nearest chair, ironically the one just vacated by their guest.

"There for a moment, I thought he was gonna turn me into puppy chow."

Sam reached across the desk and took his hands in hers, smiling at him. "That was a brilliant performance."

"Are you all right?"

"No, not really. I'm…in shock. Here I'd almost come to terms with what happened. Now this."

"So what's this Light of Buddha?" he asked.

"It depends on what legend you read. Some say it was an energy that came upon Buddha when he attained Enlightenment. Others say it was Buddha's actual life force, released when he reached parinirvana. Yet others believe the name is honorific only, and actually has nothing to do with the man himself. Some attribute an extraterrestrial nature to it. It could be some kind of power source, or maybe some type of weapon. Whatever it is it's believed to have caused, or had an effect on, the rise and fall of every Eastern Empire from 400BC until the 9th century. Finally, a Bengali king, fearing the fall of his own Empire, had the Light bottled up in a statue specifically created to contain it. He hid it away and it was never seen again.

"Daddy came across the legend of the Light of Buddha while studying archeology in college at Leeds. It became sort of an obsession with him. As for the map…he never said a thing about it to me."

"And Big Tall Scary Guy?" he asked, inclining his head towards the door.

"Never heard of him, but the organization he claims to represent calls itself Section 31. Daddy worked with them several times over the years."

"And the reason you were talking about his balls?" Sam laughed and told him about her threat.

"You _do_ realize the guy could've eaten you and wouldn't have been able to call you more than an appetizer."

"_You_ backed him down pretty good."

"Only because he knew gutting me would ruin his chances of getting his hands on that map."

Sam stood, walked around the desk, and sat on Kit's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply.

"Whaddya say we blow this juice joint, hmm Daddy-O?"

"Sounds Jake to me, Sheba. I can dig it."

The jazz slang was a private running joke that had developed between them, but there was no humor in her voice now. She buried her face in the soft fur of his neck the way she had done with her father, needing a good cry but trying to stave it off until they left the bank. Kit held her tightly, gently stroking her hair, saying nothing, knowing there was nothing that could be said. After a few minutes she managed to pull herself together, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and stood.

"Let's get the hell out of here."


	2. Chapter 2 - A Plan Forms

Kit drove them to Sam's house, a modest but elegant three bed, two bath Cape Cod structure with an expansive deck overlooking the beach of Decatur Island's west shore. They spent an hour strolling hand in hand through the surf, then headed into town. They ate an early lunch at _La Osteria_, then spent several hours at the penny arcade where Sam thrashed Kit at skeeball, Kit thrashed Sam at foosball, and they scored fairly evenly at the pinball machines.

Later they caught the matinee of Jimmy Stewart's new film, quietly necking in the back row during the newsreel. Then an early dinner at _The 33/45_, Decatur's popular diner/soda parlor. Finally, Sam was ready to go home. Kit turned the radio on low, tuned to a big band station and they curled up together at one end of a well-worn sofa. Sam leaned against him, head on his chest, wanting nothing more than to be held. Kit was happy to oblige and they watched the sun slip below the waves, leaving the glowing tubes of the radio as the only source of light. As the night drew on, Sam finally spoke.

"I don't want you to go," she said softly.

"I know. But I have to. We've got a run in the morning."

"I…I meant…I don't want you to go…ever. It's so lonely here, Kit. That's been the worst thing. Coming back to this empty, silent house every night. It's like…no matter what kind of day I have, even days where I almost never think about him, where things seem normal again, I come back here and it's like a slap in the face. Reminding me that he's gone and he's never coming back. I need someone here. Someone to be with."

He hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm so sorry, Sam. I wish I could be here for you. I want to be. But my life's in Cape Suzette right now."

She was silent a few moments. "What if…"

"What?"

She sniffled. "Nothing. It was…just a silly idea."

"Tell me."

There was a long pause. "Do you love me?"

The inflection in that sentence was on the four-letter word. She clearly wasn't asking about the "puppy" love common at the stage of a relationship where a couple first started using that word to describe their feelings. Kit responded without the slightest hesitation.

"Yes."

Another pause.

"We could…we could get married."

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

"But even if the priest showed up right now, I'd still have to go home tonight."

She said nothing.

"If this place is so depressing right now," Kit said, "Lock it up. Come back to Cape Suzette with me tonight."

"But I can't do that anymore than you can stay here. I've got to work in the morning as well."

Kit shifted around, forcing Sam to sit up. He took her chin in his hand.

"Tell you what," he said. "I know the owner of that silly bank pretty darn good. How about I beg her to let you off tomorrow? As a personal favor to me?"

Sam smiled. "I'd like that."

"So how's about we high down on the low side, catch a cloud, and final to my cubby?"

"That's a right dicty notion, Sheik."

* * *

The Gentleman picked up the phone. He spoke slowly, eloquently, and with brevity.

"Yes?"

"Suscratchums."

"Go ahead."

"There's been a development, sir. She has some kind of bodyguard."

"And?"

"He's a wildcard, sir. We can't figure out who he is, or what he might know. All we've got right now is a name. Cloudkicker."

"And the map?"

"She claims not to know anything about it. But I'm not entirely sure about that."

The Gentleman was silent for a moment. "Proceed carefully. Keep me informed."

"Yes, sir."

The Gentleman hung up the phone.

* * *

Sam packed an overnight bag and they drove down to the seaport, stopping by the bank so Sam could leave a note for the manager, Mr. Dufresne. In less than an hour they were tied up at Higher for Hire. The short walk to Kit's apartment was only ten minutes.

Before meeting Sam he wouldn't have described it as seedy, but every time she came over he almost continuously apologized for it. Halfway through her third visit, she began scolding him when he did. Tonight was different. After the first apology, she put her arms around him and held him tightly.

"Please, Kit, don't do this tonight. You know that doesn't matter to me and I'm really needing your strength right now."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"I've got to be the silly emotional woman _some_ of the time, don't I?"

They again curled up together on the couch, listening to the radio. As the clock swept towards midnight they were both starting to doze. Kit shook her gently to rouse her.

"I think it's bedtime."

He got spare blankets from the tiny hall cupboard and began to make up the sofa.

"You get the bed. No arguing, I insist."

She looked at him indecisively for a moment. "You don't…" She swallowed. "You don't have to sleep on the couch. I…I wouldn't mind."

Kit stopped what he was doing and gave her a long look, then walked over to her and kissed the tip of her nose.

"Thanks. But it's been an emotional day. Tonight…the temptation might be more than we could resist."

She looked down. "Maybe that wouldn't matter tonight," she said quietly.

He chucked a finger under her chin and lifted her head so he could meet her eyes.

"Maybe not. But it might matter a lot more on a different night."

He gave her one last squeeze and vaulted over the back of the couch.

"Better cop some doss, Sheba. We gotta be swingin' with the six chime, so I'll catch ya on the early bright."

She watched him stretch out and close his eyes, marveling as always at the way he could just fall into slumber, as though he had flipped some internal switch marked "off". She spent a few moments watching the even rise and fall of his chest, then kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"Goodnight, Kit."

* * *

Kit woke to the smell of Spam and the sound of it sizzling in a skillet. He yawned, stretched, rolled up off the couch, and stretched again. He heard Sam laugh.

"Amazing," she said. "Five after six. On the dot."

The first time Kit told her he had an internal alarm clock as dependable as any you could buy in a store, she thought he was joking. Especially when he admitted the caveat that it was always five minutes slow. But on the several occasions where one of them had slept over with the other, he had proved it. Kit pecked her on one ear as he squeezed by her in the tiny kitchenette to get to the percolator.

"Why don't you just set yourself for five minutes 'til and wake up on time?"

"Nah. What's five minutes?"

The brew was almost thick enough to stand up without needing the pot. He poured a cup and inhaled deeply over the top of it before adding a few pounds of sugar and several gallons of milk, then sipping it carefully.

"I knew you were a catch when I found out you shared my taste in coffee," she said.

"I'm forbidden from going anywhere near the pot at the office."

He watched her crack two eggs into the skillet and drop two pieces of bread in the toaster.

"Do your snobby high society associates know you have a Spam fetish?" he asked teasingly.

"Hush up, or I'll eat yours too." She divided the Spam and eggs onto two plates as the toast popped up, and they sat down. Kit dug in, but noticed after a moment that Sam was staring at him with a strange smile on her face.

"What?"

"I know where the map is."

"You do? Where?"

She kept him in suspense as she took several bites.

"Well?"

"It's right where I told Suscratchums it was. In Daddy's desk."

"How do you figure?"

"When Daddy's lawyer and I were settling his estate, he handed me a package. Said Daddy gave it to him a couple of months before, with instructions that it never be opened unless something were to happen to him, and if so, I was to have it."

"What was it?"

"A Bible. A King James Bible. With an inscription he had handwritten. 'Salvation is in the King's English'."

"Okay. So?"

"So, Daddy didn't like the King James Bible. At least as a tool for salvation. He loved the language, but felt it was too archaic for the non-classically educated to understand. So I've always been puzzled by that. But now I see it for what it is. A coded message."

"Still not following you."

"Daddy's desk is a Louis XIV. As in _King_ Louis. And the one of the main reasons he chose that piece is because it is one of a rare few made from imported _English_ oak."

"The King's English."

"Exactly. Daddy wasn't talking about the Bible, or the grammar and syntax of the King James edition. He believed that if he could find the Light of Buddha before anyone else, he could save the world by destroying it. Salvation. In the King's English. That map's hidden in his desk somewhere. It has to be."

"So what are we going to do about it?"

"Exactly what Daddy would have wanted. We're going to find the Vessel of Gopala. And we're going to destroy it, and whatever it may contain."

* * *

"Samantha!"

Rebecca practically bolted from behind her desk as they walked into the office. She embraced Sam enthusiastically.

"I didn't know you were coming to Cape Suzette."

"I didn't either, until last night."

"Where's Baloo?" Kit asked.

"Huh! Where do you think? Someday here soon, I'm literally going start kicking him out of the bed. Maybe he'll snooze less on the floor."

"I wouldn't count on it."

"The man's impossible to live with," she said as the door to the office opened again and Baloo strolled in.

"But you do it anyway," he laughed.

Her only response was to raise an eyebrow and roll her eyes. She took Sam by the hand and led her to her desk, where they sat together. They had liked each other instantly upon meeting, already having an abiding respect for each other just for being women in the business world.

"How are things in Decatur?"

"Just peachy. How about things here?"

"Oh, you know how it is. Some days are better than others. One of these days I'm going to be able to afford a nice long vacation."

"Funny you should mention that."

"Why do you say that?"

Not surprisingly, the comment had also captured Kit and Baloo's attention.

"How would you like an all expenses paid two week vacation?"

Rebecca laughed. "It'd be great. But I couldn't close the office for two weeks."

"You could if someone rented the Sea Duck for the duration of those two weeks at an appropriate daily rate."

Sam held the room rapt.

"I'm listening," Rebecca said.

"I have some business travelling I need to do, and need the freedom of my own airplane. And I'd like Kit to come with me. I need a pilot anyway, and I know he could use the time on that fresh multi-engine rating."

She glanced back at him and smiled. He was clearly surprised, but no doubt knew exactly what she was planning. Sam turned back to Rebecca and winked at her.

"Not to mention that he's nice to have around because he's easy on the eyes."

They giggled at each other.

"And I thought that rather than pay a stranger to house-sit, _you_ might be willing to keep an eye on my little piece of beachfront property. Of course, you would be welcome to bring a guest or two."

"Ohh, man!" Baloo exclaimed, "What're ya waitin' for Beckers? Tell the little lady yes already!"

"Wellll," she drawled, standing and taking Baloo's hand. "We never did get a proper honeymoon, did we?"

"Oh, we're gone! Solid gone! Two whole weeks-." He suddenly cut himself off. "Two weeks without the Duck?"

Sam stood and turned to face him. "Well, I know that would be a hard blow. But you wouldn't have to go that whole time on the ground. It's just a little old PT-17, but you could fly _my_ airplane if you wanted."

His jovial mood came right back and he grabbed Sam's hands and swung her around in circles. She let out a surprised giggle.

"Kit boy, you'd best hang on to this one! She's a real find!"

"Yeah, and you'd better let her go or you're gonna _find_ her boyfriend's got a knuckle sandwich with your name on it," he said mock seriously.

"His wife, too," Becky added, perhaps a bit more seriously.

Baloo quickly let her go.

"Well, Rebecca?" Sam asked.

"Let me look." She went around to her desk and opened her calendar.

"Well, there's nothing I can do about today's run, or tomorrow's, but after that I can clear the schedule for two weeks."

"So then?"

"How can I refuse?"

Their laughter was interrupted as the door opened again. A short balding man stepped inside.

"Mrs. Bruinwald?"

"Ah, Mr. Matthews! Good morning. I trust you're doing well today."

"Certainly."

"Baloo, Kit, would you please load Mr. Matthews' cargo into the Duck? The vacation hasn't started just yet."

There wasn't a lot. The cargo was loaded and secured in less than half-an-hour. Sam boarded the Duck with Kit and Baloo and they were off. As they leveled out at their assigned altitude, on course for Louie's, Baloo looked at Kit knowingly.

"All right, so what kind of treasure are you two flittin' off to find?"

Kit looked at Sam, deferring to her.

"A lost artifact my father had been searching for most of his adult life."

"Must be worth some big bucks."

"To the right person, it would have worth impossible to place a value on."

"Man on man," he breathed.

"We'll talk more about it at Louie's," Kit said. "It'll be interesting to hear what he's heard about it." He looked back at Sam. "Louie's something of an expert in legends."

* * *

They landed at Louie's just before eleven. The lunch rush had not yet started and only one other plane was there. It was a fairly new DHC Beaver with a nondescript red on white paint scheme. Baloo didn't recognize it, but that did happen from time to time. He ordered a top off and they walked inside. Louie grinned at Baloo when he saw him.

"Hey, Baloo, my main man! What's hap-."

His greeting was abruptly cut off as he got a look at Samantha.

"Man oh man, that must be Sam!" he exclaimed.

He vaulted over the bar, cartwheeled across several tables and ended up swinging upside down from a chandelier in front of her. He took her hand and kissed it delicately.

"Welcome to my humble establishment. I am Louie, and _I_ am at your service."

"Why thank you, Louie," she replied, gracing him with one of her most brilliant smiles.

"I'm Samantha, and _I'm_ quite sure _you_ use that line on all the pretty girls." She tickled him lightly under the chin with her index finger. "So how's about we cut the cake-eatin' and you cop me a scotch on the rocks, dig?"

Louie laughed heartily and looked at Kit as he dropped from the chandelier.

"Oooh, I like this one. You dizzy with this girl, or has ol' Louie got a shot?"

"You got a better shot at clearing customs in Thembria without paperwork." He put his arm around her waist and led her to the bar.

"Hey Louie," Baloo said, "How about some of your famous triple-decker cheeseburgers?"

"Comin' right up, cuz." He hopped back over the bar and got a rocks glass from a shelf while shouting at the kitchen.

"So what special occasion has brought you along with these boys?" Louie asked Sam.

"Oh, I'm looking for something. Kit said you might know something about it."

Louie dropped three ice cubes in the glass and started pouring her scotch. "And what would that be, dollface?"

"The Vessel of Gopala."

Louie dropped the half-filled glass and it shattered on the floor, where he continued to pour scotch on the mess for another second or two. He regarded her warily.

"Now what would a nice young lady like yourself be askin' around about somethin' like that for?"

"The subject…interests me."

Louie poured her another scotch.

"If you're after the Vessel, it means you're after the Light."

"That's right."

"And why is that?"

"What's with the third degree, Louie?" Kit asked.

"Kit, I been runnin' this bar for goin' on thirty years now. I've heard every legend, every myth, every tall tale and fish story anyone's ever told. And in all that time, only twice have any people ever come through here askin' about the Light of Buddha. And they were without a doubt the meanest, fishiest, most soulless characters that ever walked through those doors. So naturally, when I hear someone else asking about it, I try to be circumspect."

Sam took a small sip of her drink and explained to Louie why she was looking for it, and what she intended to do with it. But she said nothing about the map.

"All I know about it is that it was a great power that came down from the sky. It could take a life, or even give one back. It could wipe out a whole battlefield of soldiers without a trace. For centuries, ancient kings conquered whole continents with it. Finally, it was sealed up in a statue, hidden away, and hasn't been seen for a thousand years."

It was nothing new, and Louie quickly changed the subject. Sam barely touched her scotch (which she had really ordered just to make an impression) but tore into her burger with gusto, washing it down with a large cola. Kit managed to keep Baloo fairly on schedule, and Sam paid for their lunch as Kit practically shoved him towards the door. The cargo run was uneventful and they landed at Decatur's seaport early in the evening.

"Hey," Kit said as they taxied in, pointing out the window, "Isn't that the same Beaver that was at Louie's earlier?"

"Aw, you're getting paranoid, Kit. Commin' across two red Beavers in a day is like runnin' across two guys named Smith in a day."

He stared as they passed it, deciding that the design on the tail was different than the one earlier, or perhaps convincing himself that it was when he knew better. Besides, Baloo was right. It was one of the most common single engine floatplanes, painted in one of the most popular color schemes. So he let it go.


	3. Chapter 3 - Clues

Sam wanted Kit to stay over. He checked with Baloo and confirmed that they had only an afternoon run, and that their cargo for tomorrow was large enough that it would be forklifted onto the Sea Duck and all he had to do was tie it down. Only a small detour would be required to pick him up and wouldn't be a problem.

They stopped by Sam's favorite pizzeria and split a large deep dish meat lovers, then spent the rest of the night in the sun room that overlooked the ocean, listening to swing music and playing Cribbage. The next morning, they drove to the bank early. As they got close, Kit asked Sam to stop.

"What is it?"

"We're being followed."

"What?"

"A black sedan, three cars back. I'm almost sure of it. Drive around a while. Big circles."

She complied. The car stayed with them for three turns, then continued straight when Sam made a left a few blocks later.

"I think Baloo's right, baby. You're paranoid."

"Just because you're paranoid don't mean they're not after you."

They drove to the bank. Sam spent an hour taking care of things that required her attention, then they locked themselves inside her office. They stood and looked at the desk.

"Okay. So where do we start?" Kit asked.

"I'm not sure. Wherever it is, it's not obvious. I've been using this desk for over a year and haven't noticed anything strange about it. Guess we just have to rip into it."

They started by removing all the drawers, checking for false bottoms, and looking in the spaces they left. They found nothing. Then they crawled around it, running their hands along the sides, edges, corners, looking for hidden panels or doors. Still, nothing.

"Maybe I was wrong," Sam said after searching for more than half an hour.

"But you don't think so."

"I was sure. Now…not so much."

Kit stood staring at the desk. Sam stood across from him, alternately staring at him, then the desk. He racked his brain, and finally an idea came to him.

"I wonder…"

He began feeling around on the inlaid gemstones. Opal here, obsidian there, amethysts, malachite, pearl, aquamarine. Finally, he pressed on a perfectly rounded bead of topaz set into a perfectly square piece of ivory along the right edge of the desk and they heard a click. Excitedly they made a quick circuit of the desk and found a small drawer that had been concealed perfectly on the front of it.

"You do the honors," Kit said. Slowly, she pulled the drawer open. Inside was a folded piece of parchment, yellowed with age. Delicately, she opened it up. It was the map.

"Do you know what language that is?"

She ran her fingers delicately over the script. "No. It's not ideogrammatic. So not an oriental language. It could be Magadhi. Or maybe Sanskrit. Daddy would have known, of course."

"I don't know why, but I guess I was kind of expecting it to be in English."

The map was very crude, no more than a few crudely drawn squares connected with a few crudely drawn lines. A larger pair of parallel lines curved across the map, with chevrons drawn between them, probably representing a river. At bottom center was an irregular shape, slightly oval, that took up a little more than half the width of the page. It was surrounded on one side by several half circles. The large majority of the page was irregularly shaded, with symbols that were probably indicative of trees dispersed throughout the shading. Blocks of script near the squares hopefully identified the names of cities. A block of seven lines of script took up the bottom quarter of the page.

"I don't know where to go from here, Kit. This map is useless if we can't read it. And I don't know of anyone to take it to that we can trust. Someone that would be able to translate it…they'd also know what it was they were translating."

The phone on Sam's desk buzzed. She responded to it with a very unladylike word.

"Put it back," Sam said. "Quick, let's get this desk back together."

They returned the map to the desk and started getting the drawers put back in. The phone buzzed again. Sam sighed and picked it up.

"Yes?" Her eyes widened. She covered the end of the phone. "It's Suscratchums," she whispered. Into the phone she said "Tell him to make an appointment and come back." She hung it up.

"Wait, no!" Kit said. "I've got an idea. Tell him you'll see him, but it'll be a few minutes. And ask your assistant for a briefcase and the security guard's handcuffs."

Sam picked the phone back up and did as Kit asked. It took them a few more minutes to get the desk back in order, but they were sitting calmly when Sam's assistant knocked. Kit answered it, allowed the briefcase to be passed through as small an opening as the door would allow, and then shut and locked it.

"You got a piece of typing paper and a magic marker?"

"What are you up to?"

"An experiment. And maybe a message."

He took the marker and in large letters wrote "NO POTATOES" on the sheet of paper. He put both in the otherwise empty briefcase, then shut and locked it.

"I assume your lawyer is the same as your dad's was?"

"Yes."

"Is his office close by?"

"Yes. It's four blocks over and three up."

"Give him a ring. Tell him to expect me, and ask him for his cooperation."

Sam did as he asked. When she hung up the phone, she gave him a hard look, by now having figured out what he was doing.

"This is crazy, you know that?"

"Sam, I'm going to be followed. Not only that, but I bet that your meeting with Mr. Suscratchums is going to be very brief, and that your lawyer's office is going to be burglarized tonight."

"You're crazy. Paranoid."

"No I'm not. Think about it. Why now? If Kane was after the map when he killed your father, why the wait? Things were in turmoil for weeks. They could have turned this bank inside out, and then your house. Done professionally, no one would have noticed. And if they suspected you had no knowledge of the map, once it was in their possession, you'd never have been the wiser. But they waited more than a year. And then have now suddenly decided they _have_ to have it. Have to have it so badly they need to involve you to get their hands on it. Something has happened and the pressure is on them."

Sam looked at him, smiled, and shook her head. "Baby, you're either a genius, or you're completely off your nut."

He leaned over the desk and planted a kiss on her lips. "You never know…maybe I'm both."

He latched one of the cuffs to the handle on the briefcase and the other to his left wrist, then turned towards the door.

"Oh, what's the address?"

"243 North 5th."

"See you in a little bit."

He pulled his sunglasses down and opened the door. He couldn't help but notice that Suscratchums' eyes widened as he walked by. He heard Sam's voice behind him.

"Mr. Suscratchums, again you show up unannounced. What more can I do for you?"

Suscratchums stood to his full height. He glanced quickly between her and Kit.

"You're quite right, Miss Beckett. I do apologize. What I have is not pressing. I will make an appointment and see you at a later time."

"Well, you're here."

"No. I have forgotten myself. I will not impose upon you further. Again, accept my apologies."

He turned and walked out of the bank. In the process of making his apologies, he apparently forgot to make an appointment.

* * *

Kit did his best to look behind him without actually looking back. As he turned right onto Monroe Street, he thought he saw movement, but couldn't be sure. Decatur's named streets all ran north-south, while the numbered streets all ran east-west, with even numbered streets having one way traffic to the west, and odd numbered streets having one way traffic to the east. He used this to his advantage, walking down a block to 3rd Avenue and turning west, knowing that anyone following him in a vehicle would have to quickly park and get out, and would be extremely conspicuous in doing so. Sure enough, using reflections in the plate glass storefronts to watch behind him, he noticed an older black sedan, possibly the same one he suspected of tailing them earlier, suddenly whip to the curb, and two men in long black trench coats jumped out, rushing to keep up.

Kit smiled inwardly. Having confirmed he was being tailed, he no longer felt a need to keep an eye out. He _wanted_ to be followed, after all. So he stayed in character, stalking stoically towards his destination, quickly but not rushing, never looking behind. He reached the lawyer's office in about ten minutes, and went inside. The reception room was small and cozy, and an older balding gentleman, beagle-ish in appearance, sat on the corner of the desk, chewing on the end of a cob pipe. The smell of cherry tobacco smoke permeated the air. He stood and held out a hand.

"You must be Kit," he said in a gravelly voice.

"Yes, sir."

"Sam told me to expect you. Trevor Linden, at your service. I'm afraid it's just me at the moment. My secretary is down with a cold."

"That's quite all right. Mr. Linden…how would you like to be burglarized tonight?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, there are two men outside who have followed me over from the bank, and they believe there is something of great value in this briefcase." He held it up.

"But I take it there isn't anything at all in there."

"No, sir. Not a thing."

"And so you intend to leave that briefcase with me, so they will think you have given it to me for safekeeping."

"Precisely. That will allow us to abscond with the _real_ item of value."

"And I get my windows smashed."

"No, sir, I don't think so. These will be very professional men. If you were to leave the briefcase where it would be found without too much trouble, I doubt you would even know anyone had been here."

"Well, the Police would-"

"I'd prefer not to involve the police."

Linden looked him over. "What have you gotten Samantha into, young man? You know I'm somewhat responsible for her."

"Not a thing, sir. It's her father that's causing all the trouble."

He heaved a large sigh. "It's that damned artifact again, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"I had hoped poor Walter's death would be the end of that snipe hunt." He shook his head. "Very well. But Kit, this is the last time. I've been mixed up in that nasty business more times than I care to look back on. Sam had no way of knowing. But tell her this is it. I'm done with the Vessel of Gopala."

"Yes, sir. I will, sir." Kit produced the handcuff key from his pocket and released himself from the briefcase.

"Mr. Linden, thank you very much."

"Tell her I mean it, Kit. This is the last time."

"With just a little bit of luck, this will be the last time for everyone."

He turned to walk out. But hearing Linden say he had worked with Sam's dad in his search for the Light gave him another thought.

"Oh, Mr. Linden, one more thing," he said. "You don't know of a linguist that Sam's dad may have worked with in his quest for the Light, do you?"

He thought for a moment.

"Not in the manner I think you mean. But I do know someone he worked with a time or two who I think may be able to help you. He and his father are both renowned archeologists. And he's something of an adventurer."

"Who?"

"His name is Dr. Henry Jones. You can find him at Marshall College in Connecticut."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Linden."

"And Kit?"

"Yes, sir?"

"He prefers to be called Indiana."

* * *

When Kit got back to the bank, Sam told him about Suscratchums' hasty departure. Kit told her about his tail.

"Sam, the longer I think about this, the more severe my case of heebie-jeebies gets."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"We need to blow town. Tonight. But not _look_ like we're blowing town. We've got to get a head start on these guys. If we ease on out of here like we're just overnighting in Cape Suzette again, they're not going to be watching us as closely when they think the map is still here. They'll be paying attention to that briefcase until they open it and find out they've been had. After that, they're going to be _convinced_ we have the map."

"I still don't know what to do with it."

"I do." He told her about Dr. Jones.

"Do you think we can trust him?"

"Well, it seems your father did. Who else is there?"

"I guess no one." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "What time is your run today?"

"Cargo will be there at noon. Baloo should be here by one thirty."

"Is there anything you need from Cape Suzette you can't buy on the road?"

He thought a moment. "Not that I can think of. I'd like to bring the Panhead along. It'd ensure we had spur of the moment transportation when we needed it."

"Good idea. Can you call Baloo and have him load it for you?"

"No problem."

"Good. Then when you finish your run today, you can come back here, off load Baloo and pick me up. I'll arrange transportation for Rebecca and Molly to get here so we don't have to go back to Cape Suzette. That way they can't tail us from there. And even if they're instantly suspicious when Baloo gets off and I get on, it'll be too late to put a tail on us here. And we'll be off. Straight to Connecticut?"

"No. East. Keep going past Cape Suzette another fifty miles or so, then land to stock up. That'll have them looking for us there, at least briefly. Then on to Connecticut. Maybe we can shake them off of us for at least a little while."

* * *

The Gentleman picked up the phone.

"Yes?"

"Suscratchums."

"Go ahead."

"It was empty, sir. A ruse."

"The subjects?"

"They've disappeared, sir. We were concentrating on the briefcase, so there was only one man watching the airport. She got on board with Cloudkicker. Just an overnight bag again. But then the other pilot got off. We assumed they were going back to Cape Suzette, but they never showed there."

"So you've no idea of their whereabouts?"

"No sir."

"And still no idea who this meddling Cloudkicker is?"

"No, sir. And after they didn't show up in Cape Suzette, our man there reported that the second pilot loaded a motorcycle onto the plane before he loaded the cargo this afternoon."

"He didn't report it immediately?"

"No, sir. He felt it wasn't important."

"Deal with him in the usual manner."

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Suscratchums."

"Yes, sir?"

"I am displeased."

"Yes, sir."

"My displeasure and your well being are inversely proportional."

"Yes, sir."

The Gentleman hung up the phone.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Chase Begins

Kit and Sam walked quietly down the halls of Marshall College. It was near the top of the hour and classes would be dismissing soon. They reached the door to Dr. Jones' class and caught him concluding the day's lecture. The speech had a polished edge that said he'd given it many times.

"Archeology is the search for _fact_. Not truth. If it's truth you're looking for, Professor Tyree's philosophy class is right down the hall. So forget any ideas you have about lost cities, exotic travels, and digging up the world. We do not follow maps to buried treasure and "X" never, _ever_ marks the spot."

He stopped and smiled slightly, mostly to himself. "Well, almost never," he said softly. He took a breath and continued.

"70 percent of all archeology is done in the _library_. Research. Reading. You cannot afford to take mythology at face value. You must look beneath what is on the surface, dissect the clues, remove the hearsay, and distill the facts to solve the mysteries."

The bell rang and the students began gathering up their materials. Jones raised his voice to speak above the noise.

"All right, remember tomorrow, Babylonia, Chaldean Dynasty, 626 to 539 BC and term papers are due next Monday."

It took the students a few minutes to completely file out, leaving Dr. Jones staring pensively out the classroom windows. They entered quietly behind him and Sam cleared her throat.

"Dr. Jones?"

He turned to face them.

"Yes?"

"Dr. Jones, my name is Samantha Beckett. You worked with my father several times. Walter Beckett. I was wondering if we might-"

He held up a finger, then looked around, almost suspiciously.

"I think we should have this conversation in private." he said.

He led them outside and around the corner of the next hallway, and then into his private office. He motioned that they should precede him and he closed and locked the door once they were inside. The office was terribly cramped, stuffed to the gills with archeological knick-knacks of every kind, and seemingly from every era.

"Walter Beckett," he said musingly. "Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while." He picked up a worn, dusty brown fedora that was lying on his desk. He donned it and ran his pinched finger and thumb across the brim, then turned to face them.

"How is he these days?"

"He's dead, Dr. Jones. Murdered in a failed bank robbery a little more than a year ago."

A hardness passed through the man's eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He took a deep breath. "I take it your visit today isn't a social call."

"I'm afraid not, Dr. Jones."

"Please, call me Indy."

"And you can call me Sam. This is Kit."

"Well, Sam, not being a social call, I can only assume this is about the Light of Buddha."

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Look, Indy, I'm not sure how to go about this. To be frank, you come highly recommended, and the fact that my father worked with you at all is encouraging but…well…"

"You don't trust me."

She sighed. "I hate to put it like that, and then ask for your help, but essentially, yes."

He stepped up to her and fixed an iron gaze on her, locking in on her eyes. She felt he was reading everything that was written on her soul. It was frightfully intimate.

"Sam, if you find the Light of Buddha, what do you intend to do with it?"

"The same thing my father wanted to do with it."

"Which is?"

"Destroy it."

He kept that probing stare fixated on her for another moment, then finally looked away. She almost gasped in relief.

"Okay, Sam. I believe you."

He sat on the corner of his desk and looked at them with a crooked, almost nostalgic smile.

"You've every right not to trust me. And you really shouldn't. It could get you into a lot of trouble. But it won't, I promise.

"Your father and I had very similar opinions of the Light of Buddha. Our biggest point of contention was that he thought it should be found and destroyed. I thought that it should be left rotting in whatever hole it's buried in. Even the possibility of it falling into the hands of the wrong person is a thought too terrifying to contemplate.

"But he had a valid argument for finding it. If it even exists. And he trusted me enough to tell me that he thought he had located evidence of a map that would lead to the Light. I helped him with a little of the research that eventually pointed to Cambodia."

"Angkor."

Indy's eyes widened. "He took the trip?"

Sam nodded. It was time to ante up. They really had no choice about it, but she felt much better about it now.

"And the map?"

Sam reached into the backpack she was carrying and pulled out a coffee can, in which she had placed the map for protection. She pried off the lid and carefully removed the yellowed parchment. Indy stood and approached Sam slowly. He reached out, not for the map, but for Sam's wrist, which he turned to an angle that allowed him to see the map in better light.

"Incredible," he said quietly.

"Dr. Jones," Kit broke in, "We've only in the last couple of days become involved in this thing. But we've started to suspect there is something beyond us going on."

He briefly summarized the relevant events of the past two days. Indy listened very carefully, his mouth becoming set in hard line.

"Well…Kit, is it?"

Kit nodded.

"Well, Kit, I'm afraid it's much more than that. Yesterday, I was paid a none too polite visit by a few of the government's finest. They also had a sudden abiding interest in the legend of the Light of Buddha. And I don't know who this Suscratchums person is, but he's not Section 31. Because Section 31 already _has_ a map. Apparently it's something they've just acquired. That's what they were concerned with. They wanted to know everything I knew about the legend, and anyone I'd ever worked with on anything dealing with it."

He gave them a sardonic smile and snapped his fingers in the air. "But you know, until you two showed up today, I completely forgot I'd worked with Bill Beckett."

If Sam had any doubt about this man, it now evaporated. "Bill" was an affectionate nickname that only her father's closest friends had used.

"So then we're too late?" Sam asked.

"No, I don't think so. From the things they said, the Feds don't believe the map Section 31 has is complete. So it seems there's something of a race on now. The two of you, Section 31, whatever group this Suscratchums represents, the Feds…and who knows if there are any others."

Sam drew a long breath, let it out slowly. She looked at Kit. "What do you think, Kit? Sounds like we might be in over our heads."

He shook his head. "We _are_ in over our heads. _Way_ over. This has ceased to be some fun little adventure, or vengeance for your father, or…or just a naive desire to do our good deed for the day. But none of that matters. This is bigger than just us, now. If we don't find the Light…"

He struggled for a moment with his words. "Sam…I'm just now seeing what your father did. Comprehending how much this means. I mean…if a Lenin or a Kaganovitch, or someone worse, got their hands on the Light…"

There was silence for a few moments as Kit grasped for an adequate expression.

"The world would die," Indy finally said.

They stared at each other for a few moments.

"So that's it then," Sam said. Kit nodded. "We have to see this through to the end."

"So what is it you want from me?" Indy asked.

"Well," Kit said, "We can't read the map. But the man who recommended you also said you were…'something of an adventurer', I believe is how he put it."

An odd look crossed his face, one that spoke of amusement, irony, understatement, great fun, and great fear. He shook his head.

"I might be able to help you with the map. But I can't help you search for the Light. I've already said I think it should stay buried. And despite recent developments, I still think that."

"Fair enough. But it now seems that time may be of the essence."

"I agree. Perhaps I should have a look at that map."

Sam carefully handed the map to Indy. He placed it on a drafting table and turned on a swing arm lamp. He ran his fingers just above the map.

"Magadhi script, probably tenth century. But the map isn't to scale." He pointed to the northernmost square on the map.

"This is Pataliputra here. Modern day Patna. It was at the confluence of the Ganges, Gandhaka, and Son rivers, so it was very powerful. Several empires, including the Pala, made their Capitals there. But then the map turns southeast. I think Pataliputra is included just for reference. The rest of the map seems in scale."

Kit had commandeered some paper and a pencil, and was busily scribbling as Indy talked.

"Kadesh, Tuthra, Nehu. I've never heard of these towns. They must have been very small. That's probably why Pataliputra is included."

He focused on the lines of script at the bottom. He alternately muttered in some ancient tongue, and spoke in English.

"From the Great City…follow the river…30 parasangs, that's about a hundred miles…where it turns south. Here is the crescent of hills…where the King was taken. By his servants at Tuthra…to the…place where the ground splits. There the Light is closed behind his eyes. But woe to he that opens them…for he who bears the Light...is also borne by it." Indy looked up.

"Devapala didn't just have the Light buried," he said.

"He had it buried with _him_," Sam finished.

"But why would he be buried in the middle of nowhere?" Kit asked. "This great king?"

"Well, if he truly feared the power the Light had," Indy mused, "The only way to prevent it from falling into the hands of grave robbers would be to be buried in secret. But the ruler of a great empire wouldn't be able to do that."

"So his 'servants at Tuthra'," Kit put in, still scribbling, "Maybe they switched the body."

"Possible," Indy said. "Though it would have been extremely difficult."

"So these…crescent hills, place where the ground splits…geologic formations?" Sam asked.

"Crescent _of_ hills. Most likely. As ancient maps go…this one seems to be pretty accurate."

Kit finished scribbling. "So that begs the question: Is the map real?"

Indy swung the lamp, which was equipped with a magnifier, over the yellowed parchment.

"Well it _is_ in very good condition, considering its age. But the parchment seems to be correct. So does the ink. And the information that Bill and I examined, which led to the map, was very solid. I would say yes, this is the real thing."

"What about the warning? 'He who bears the Light is borne by it'." Kit asked.

Indy shook his head. "I'm not sure. But I've learned not to ignore warnings that come from antiquity."

Kit handed Indy the paper he had been scribbling on. "What do you think, Doc?"

It was an English reproduction of the map. Indy looked it over and smiled.

"Not bad. Not bad at all. You're pretty good, kid."

"Thanks, Dr. Jones. For everything." Sam put the map back in the coffee can, while Kit folded up his reproduction and put it in his left hip pocket.

"Happy to help. But I still think you should leave this thing alone."

"We can't," Sam said.

"I understand."

"Well, we better be going," Sam said. "Again, we appreciate all your help." She extended her hand, and Indy shook it firmly.

"You kids be careful."

"We'll certainly try," Kit said, also shaking Indy's hand. "Hopefully we'll be able to share the remainder of this tale with you soon."

"I'd like that." He regarded Kit for a moment. "Kit, I'd like you to have something."

He turned and pushed past several shelves, bumping into assorted objects out of their sight, and could be heard rummaging around. A few moments later, he reappeared, holding a hat that seemed identical to his own. He handed it to Kit.

"It doesn't have quite the history this one does," he said, pushing the brim of his own hat up with an index finger, "But it might bring you some luck."

"I certainly hope so. Thanks so much Indy."

"You're welcome."

They turned and left the office.

* * *

As they crossed the quad, Sam slapped the brim of the fedora down over Kit's eyes.

"Pretty chic, Sheik," she said.

"I could get used to it. But it's not exactly the most practical item for wear on a motorcycle."

He slid the backpack off of Sam's shoulders and carefully put the hat inside, then handed it back to her.

"So where do we go from here?" he asked.

"India, obviously. But we need to stop and get a few more supplies. Food and water rations, equipment for traversing jungle terrain…machetes and such. And we need to buy a boat. Something small but sturdy, and that we can load and unload from the Duck fairly quickly."

Kit took a breath. "Sam…we should also buy some sidearms."

She stopped and looked at him.

"I know you're not keen on that idea. Neither am I. You know I'm not, and for the same reason you are. But if we run into these people out there…we'd _better_ be armed. And with more than a machete. Otherwise we'll just walk into the jungle and disappear."

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Finally, she nodded. "You're right, of course."

She started walking again. "So a quick stop for some supplies, then on to India."

"It'll be faster to take the northern route."

Kit pulled a folded aeronautical chart from the inside pocket of his flight jacket and showed it to Sam.

"Newfoundland, to the Azores, to Lisbon. Then probably either Naples or Athens, depending on the wind. I'll have to check the charts for a mid-east stop. After that, who knows? It's a long flight, close to 20 hours to cross, another day to India. We can get a game plan together en route."

They weren't looking where they were going and collided hard with someone. They both began apologizing and looked up. And up. And right into the face of Amolatti Suscratchums. There were a few moments of stunned silence and then Suscratchums' neutral expression changed to one of rage as he recognized them. Kit grabbed Sam by the arm and yanked her away as Suscratchums' massive paw, claws extended, swept through the space her head had occupied a tenth of a second earlier. He howled angrily in a foreign language and Kit noticed several people who must have been unobtrusively shadowing Suscratchums suddenly dash in their direction.

"We gotta get outta here!" Sam exclaimed.

"Really? What was your first clue?"

They sprinted across the quad, and being a seasoned runner Kit would have easily outpaced their pursuers but had to slow his pace for Sam's sake. Sam was aware of this and as they rounded the administration building and saw the parking lot roughly two hundred yards distant, she shoved his shoulder and shouted at him.

"Go! Get the bike started, I'll be right behind you!"

He sprinted off, reluctant to leave her, but knowing the extra seconds it would take to get the moody motorcycle started could do them in, and that having it running when Sam caught up could save them. He mounted the bike about ten seconds ahead of her, and got it started on the fourth kick. He wound it up and pushed the choke in just as Sam vaulted onto the saddle behind him. He stomped on the gear shifter, dropped the clutch, and they sped out of the parking lot. Kit wasn't entirely sure that he heard gunshots until the stop sign he was about to run was suddenly ventilated. But the sound of tires screeching over a screaming engine was easily distinguishable over the roar of the Panhead.

Looking behind him, a black sedan was leaving a trail of smoke as it tore out of the parking lot in pursuit. Whoever this group was, they didn't seem to be in the business of public safety as the passenger leaned out of the car's window and sung at them in the unmistakable voice of an MG42. They both hunched down as best they could and Kit wove the bike back and forth to try and make them a more difficult target. The right side mirror exploded as a bullet came so close to his ear that he heard it pass.

Horns blared as Kit carved a wide high-speed right onto the main road, cutting off traffic in his lane and causing cars in the oncoming lane to swerve.

"Where are you going? The seaport's the other way!"

"I know, but if we don't lose these turkeys first, we'll never get off the ground!"

Apparently having exhausted their ammunition, the sedan sped up behind them. It must have been extensvely modified under the hood for it to even be keeping up with the motorcycle, much less about to catch them. Kit continued to weave back and forth, barely keeping ahead. As they rounded a curve, several hundred yards ahead of them another black sedan shot out of a side street and came to a smoking rubber stop across their lane. Doors opened and four men climbed out.

"Do you trust me?" Kit shouted.

"Yes, why?"

Kit dropped a gear and opened the throttle all the way. The bike screamed and accelerated hard. The men standing around the sedan scattered to the side of the road as they closed at suicidal speed.

"_Kiiiit_!"

He leaned the bike hard to the left. Horns blared again as he zoomed into the opposite lane of traffic, barely clearing the sedan's rear bumper and causing the oncoming cars to swerve out of his way. He looked behind when he heard the satisfying crunch of steel meeting steel and saw that one of the cars that had swerved to miss him had impacted the parked sedan. The resulting carnage blocked both lanes. Kit swung back into the right lane and let off the throttle. Sam released the death grip she had on Kit's waist and slapped his shoulder.

"Are you crazy?"

"You said you trusted me!"

"Yeah, but I didn't know you were going to try and kill us!"

From their right, horn blaring, another car roared off a side street in front of them. Kit jammed on the brakes, briefly locking up the back tire and nearly high-siding them.

"How many of these guys are there?" He wondered aloud.

"And what's their fascination with black sedans?"

He abruptly swung left onto the next side street, cutting off a massive truck in the process. It's air horn bellowed at them as they passed inches from its front grill.

"Kit, sweetheart, I know we're running for our lives here, but let's leave the big trucks alone, okay?"

"What's it matter? Peterbuilt or Model A, if it T-bones us on this thing at fifty miles per hour, we're goners."

Kit headed for the seaport as fast as he dared without being pursued. They loaded the bike as quickly as they could, but Bedford Control held them at the pier to let a zeppelin pass overhead.

"What was _he_ doing there?" Sam wondered as they sat, engines idling. Kit was nervously tapping the yoke. He knew it was very likely Suscratchums' men would look for them here.

"I don't know. But you can bet all the stops are out now."

A deep voice rose from behind them. "They most certainly are. Hands up. Turn slowly."

Hands raised, they turned to see Suscratchums, who was holding a Luger P08. He was standing just behind the bulkhead door with the weapon pointed between them. Even if they charged him together, he would have more than enough time to get off a shot at both of them.

"You have both caused me a considerable amount of consternation. I do not enjoy consternation. Now where is the map?"

"If you think you're walking out of here with that map-"

"Miss Beckett, I _am_ walking out of here with that map. What has yet to be determined is whether either of you will be alive when I do. I am leaning towards dispatching Mr. Cloudkicker on general principal. I do not appreciate being made a fool."

"Hey, if the shoe fits."

Suscratchums' eyes flashed and he pointed the gun directly at Kit. "You are not helping your situation. The _map_. Give it to me."

Kit held out his hand towards Sam. "Sam."

"Kit!" she hissed. "No!"

"The bag, Sam. We don't have a choice."

She shot an icy look at Kit, then at Suscratchums, then back at Kit. Reluctantly, she handed him the backpack. He unzipped it and reached inside. Suscratchums tensed and Kit realized he was about to get shot. He froze.

"Easy. Easy, it's just a coffee can."

"Slowly."

At a snail's pace, he pulled out the can, then tossed the bag away, towards the corner at the rear of the cockpit. He extended the can towards Suscratchums.

"Open it."

He did so, pulled out the map, dropped the can on the deck, and held the map out. Suscratchums stepped forward cautiously, reached out with his free hand and delicately took the map, then stepped back again. He held it by one corner and gently shook it open.

"Finally," he breathed.

Kit knew the large tiger was as distracted as he was going to get. He rammed his elbow backwards into the throttles, jamming them to their forward stops. The Duck's 3,600 horses whinnied in unison and the plane leapt forward. Suscratchums' feet came out from under him and he fell back into the hold, squeezing off a shot that ricocheted off the ceiling, pinging off the bulkheads several times but not hitting anything important.

Nearly empty and only half full of fuel, the Duck reached flying speed in only moments. Even as Suscratchums was falling, Kit swung around in his seat and flipped the switch that opened the rear door, then pulled the yoke into his lap. They nosed sharply into the air and he looked over his shoulder, watching with satisfaction as Suscratchums tumbled out the back.

He closed the door and trimmed the airplane for a normal climb, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked over at Sam, wearing a crooked grin.

"Well, that was a close…Sam?"

Her head hung and she looked near tears. "Sam, what is it?"

"It's over. We lost. All those years Daddy searched, and we screw it up the moment we start looking."

"What do you mean we lost?"

"We'll never find the Light now. And Suscratchums has the map. Who knows what he's got planned for it? Daddy's probably spinning in his grave."

"Sam, what on earth are you talking about?"

She fixed a hateful stare at him. "The map, Kit. You just handed it over to him."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you _did_."

"No, I didn't."

She stared at him blankly.

"I didn't give him _the_ map. Just _a_ map."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the copy he had made.

"And I gave him the one we couldn't read anyway."

Sam stared at him blankly for a moment, then jumped out of her seat and hugged his neck. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry."

"You should be," he said teasingly.

She broke the embrace and looked him in the eyes.

"So who do you trust?" he asked.

"You."

"And who do you love?"

"You."

"And who loves you?"

She smiled down at him. "You do."

She kissed him deeply and then returned to her seat.

"You're a real find, Cloudkicker, you know that?"

He gave her a look implying that she had just said something incredibly obvious.

"Of course."

"The race is really on now."

"Well with any luck, the seawater didn't do that old parchment any good. But you're right. We'll head down to Lakehurst, top off the tanks, and make a hasty shopping trip. But if that map is intact, Suscratchums may have someone in that part of the world he can call, so we have to figure him on having an almost two-day head start. We're going to need some luck."

"Possibly, but I don't think he would leave finding the Light to a subordinate. And even if he would, they would only be able to get close. To find the Light's exact location will require someone right there, and with the map."

"So maybe we've got a shot at this after all."

"I hope so." She looked out at the serene cloudy sky quietly for a moment. "I pray so."

* * *

The Gentleman picked up the phone.

"Yes?"

"Suscratchums."

"Go ahead."

"We have the map. The subjects were at the college."

"Engaged in what?"

"We don't know. Presumably consulting with the Doctor we were there for."

"They are not in your custody?"

"No, sir. They got away."

"But after you got the map."

"Yes, sir."

"Explain."

"It was Cloudkicker. He…dumped me out the back of the airplane, sir."

"He is proving to be quite troublesome."

"Yes, sir."

"Where does the map lead?"

"We're still deciphering that, sir." He wasn't about to reveal the map had been nearly destroyed by the saltwater. Hopefully his men could restore it enough to be useful.

"But the map starts at Pataliputra. We can start for India."

"Very well. I will meet you in Patna."

The Gentleman hung up the phone.


	5. Chapter 5 - Into The Jungle

_56 hours later, near the Indian/Bengali border_

The outboard motor chuffed softly, idling, pushing the 8-foot Jon boat forward at a crawl. Kit sat at the rear, steering, while Sam sat on the center bench, watching the bank carefully, looking for a place to go ashore. Their large hikers' backpacks, crammed with rope, some basic climbing gear, camping supplies and food rations, rode in front. Between Kit and Sam were five ten-liter gas cans.

"There," she said, pointing to a clearing at the water's edge.

Kit steered toward it, bumping the throttle a little as they approached the shore to gain enough speed to beach the bow. Sam clambered over their packs and jumped out, tugging on the bow until Kit also jumped out and they hauled the boat ashore. Kit looked around. What appeared to be a deer trail or something similar led into the trees, but there was no telling how far, or in what direction, it went.

"Finding our way back here is going to be a nightmare," he said.

"That's what the flagging tape is for."

He took off the fedora Indy had given him and wiped his brow with the back of his wrist.

"Still…"

He pulled the topographic map out of a pocket. He and Sam were dressed in multi-pocketed safari shirts and pants in mixed green and brown tones, knee high leather boots with thick deeply treaded soles, and thick leather utility belts. They each wore a canteen on a leather strap across their chests. From the utility belts hung an 18-inch razor sharp machete, and a Colt 1911 .45 semi-auto, along with spare magazines, survival knives, multi-tools, and a spare canteen. Kit carried his pistol on his right hip and machete on his left, but Sam, being left-handed, carried her's the opposite way. She had chosen a canvas pith helmet to cover her head.

They had been at a complete loss for where to turn next when they stumbled across the small local safari shop twenty miles down river where they had left the Duck. It had offered a complete set of topographic maps at varying scales. Poring over these they had discovered a small ravine less than a mile west of the bank, and less than half a mile from where the river turned south. It was framed by a crescent of higher elevation that a thousand years ago might have been high enough to be called hills. It was their best and only lead. Sam had paid one of the locals 2000 rupees to guard the Duck, which was probably more than the man made in a year. She produced another 2000 and waved it under his nose, promising it to him if they returned and found the Duck unmolested. Such a sum would all but ensure the man would guard the plane with his life. Having secured his promise that he would do just that, they headed up the river.

Now, conferring with his compass, Kit attempted to determine their exact position. His innate navigation skills seemed to work as well overland as they did in the air.

"As near as I can tell," he mused, pointing at the map, "We're right here. The ravine should be about fifteen hundred yards due west of us."

He followed the point of the compass around to the west, and it pointed directly down the deer trail. He extended his arm in the same direction. "Which is where the trail goes, at least for the first few hundred feet."

"Well then let's get to it. We need to get this boat hidden."

They drug the boat into the brush, and it took them half-an hour to camouflage it in a manner that completely hid it but was not terribly obvious. Someone who knew where to look and was expecting to find it would do so easily. Barring that, it would all but cease to exist. When they were finished, Kit upended his canteen and instructed Sam to do the same as he refilled it from the river.

"We don't know when we'll get another chance."

Kit had purchased a brightly colored beaded leather necklace back in town, promising Sam he'd show her what it was for later. Now he dug it from his pocket and cut it into three sections, rearranging it so that each section had a different color, and then tying the three sections together at one end so they hung from the strap of his backpack. The leather cord was thick enough that the beads would not slide along it freely, but thin enough that they could be moved at will. Kit touched each string.

"Twenty paces, one hundred paces, five hundred paces. One pace for me is about three feet. So we always know how far we've gone."

"Pretty slick, slick. Let's get going."

They set off down the trail. "You get the feeling this is all too good to be true?" Sam asked.

"What do you mean?"

"It's just…too easy. I mean, it's been like a day trip since we ditched Suscratchums and his goons back in Bedford."

"Well that's just fine with me. If we don't see another soul between now and when we get back to the Duck, I'll be happier than an ape in a banana tree."

The thick canopy above filtered out the sunlight, making the trail gloomy. It faded away both ahead and behind. After three hundred and fifty feet, the trail made a sharp turn to the north.

"Well?" Sam asked. "Follow the trail or not?"

"Not," said Kit without hesitation. "We could end up following that trail six ways from Sunday. Overland is the way to go. We just have to be careful."

He drew his machete. "Let's go."

He led them into the jungle, using the compass to keep them on a straight line. He proceeded carefully, using his machete only when completely necessary. He didn't want to disturb the jungle any more than he had to. Simply hacking a path through would be like hanging a flashing neon sign to announce their presence. Not knowing who else might be lurking around, doing so seemed like a bad idea. After the first twenty paces he stopped and looked at Sam.

"Flagging tape."

She tied a loop of the bright orange ribbon around a branch at eye level. Every twenty paces, Kit instructed her to tie another, making sure the previous ribbon was visible when standing at the current. Shortly after the seventh, he held up his hand.

"Here, look," He pointed at the underbrush.

"This growth has been freshly trampled. Broken branches, machete marks. A large group has come this way, and recently."

He looked at her. "We're not alone here. But they've crossed our path left to right. South to north. So if it's competition they're going the wrong way."

"Well gee, this is such a densely populated area, why would you assume they have anything to do with us?"

"Just a hunch. Tie another ribbon here."

She complied and Kit led them on. He kept the pace slow, making sure to keep them on a perfectly straight westerly course, and carefully keep track of the distance they were covering. After better than an hour the jungle began to thin, and finally they emerged.

The ravine stretched out before them, a literal hole in the jungle. Lined with sheer jagged rock, it stretched out ahead of them, several hundred feet at its widest point, and better than 1500 feet long. The "crescent of hills", which was only a raised mound of earth ranging from twenty to fifty feet high, framed the ravine from west to northeast.

"This is it," Sam said.

"I hope so. It'd be an awful lot of trouble to go through for nothing."

"It's here. I know it is."

"Well then let's go get it."

They approached the rim of the ravine carefully. It appeared to be about a hundred feet deep. As they picked their way around the edge, they discovered a worn footpath that appeared to have been cut into the northeast face. They made their way down, proceeding carefully. The path seemed stable, despite being so old, and they reached the bottom safely. Directly across from them was an arched entryway, chiseled out of the rock face.

"Well, if there was any doubt, I think that erases it," Sam said.

"I agree. But this all feels…"

"Too easy?"

"Exactly."

"Funny, when I said that an hour ago you didn't seem so concerned."

"Yeah, well…I was wrong."

The bright sunshine penetrated only a few feet into what had to have been Devapala's tomb. Thick cobwebs clogged the spaces where hairy roots and wiry vines did not. They dug flashlights from their packs and proceeded carefully, using their machetes to clear the air ahead of them as much as they could.

"You think there are booby traps?" Sam asked.

"As sure as there's God."

Ahead, the floor of the passage became an intricately patterned mosaic, ringed with script similar to that on the original map.

"Wonder what it says?" Kit mused.

"Nothing flattering about us, I guarantee."

"Yeah, but it'd be really handy to be able to read it if it says something like 'turn left in one hundred feet'."

Kit crouched down and ran his hands over the carving; Sam stopped a few paces ahead and looked back at him. A heavy coating of dust lay over the mosaic, and Kit brushed it away to reveal colors as intricate as the carvings. He studied it for a few moments, briefly entranced, then shook his head and stood. They started to continue on, but Sam suddenly gasped and stopped. Kit froze.

"What?"

"I just stepped on something. Almost…almost like a button."

"Okay then. Don't move. Just…just turn slowly. Reach out to me. Keep that foot planted."

Sam slowly began to turn, but before she could get even halfway around, the floor caved in beneath her. She screamed as she fell.

"_Sam_!"

He dove to the edge, heedless of the danger to himself, and saw Sam's flashlight spiraling away into an awful darkness that was impossibly deep. For an instant that seemed like forever, he thought she was gone. Then he heard her scream again, and her voice was just below him. He shined his light down and she was clinging to an outcropping about seven feet below him.

"Kit! Kit, help me! Please!"

"Hang on! Hang on, baby, I'm coming for you."

He set his light on the edge, slung his pack from his shoulders and tore it open, digging franticly for the rope he knew was in there but that seemed to have vanished. He finally got hold of it and yanked it out, along with a number of other items, and quickly tied it around his waist with a bowline.

"Kit! Kit, I'm slipping! _Please_!"

"Just hold on! Just one more second! Here comes the rope, baby."

He tossed it down the hole. "Okay, it should be right beside you."

"I can't see it!" Her voice was frantic, racked with sobs. "I can't see it!"

"I'm swinging it back and forth. You're gonna have to feel for it. I can't hold the light and the rope at the same time."

"Okay. I feel it. It's brushing my hand."

"Now just grab on. First one hand then the other. You can do it. You can do it, Sam."

He braced himself, feeling completely helpless. Sam suddenly yelped and his heart stopped, but then the rope jerked hard, nearly upsetting him and pulling him over. He began pulling her up.

"I've got you. I've got you Sam, just hold tight."

It seemed to take an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a few seconds, and then she was up, standing beside him, crying and squeezing him so tightly it hurt but felt absolutely wonderful.

"I thought I'd lost you," Kit whispered in her ear.

They broke the embrace and both took a deep breath.

"Okay?" Kit asked. She nodded.

"Yeah." She caressed his cheek. "Now. That's twice you've saved my life."

"And I'll do it again if I have to. But you really should stop giving me the opportunities."

"I'll do my best."

"Shall we press on?"

"Yeah. With all due haste. I've already had enough of this place."

He reluctantly let her go and then picked up his flashlight, shining it over the gaping hole in the floor. There was a ledge roughly three feet wide remaining on one side of the passage, and it looked very well supported. But Kit wasn't going to take any chances. He dug a hammer and a ring of pitons and carabiners from his pack before stuffing what he had spilled when digging for the rope back inside. Kit rigged a safety line and sent Sam ahead of him, then reeled the line back from her and followed her across. He wedged the loose end into a crack so they could use it on the way out.

"Well, one down," Kit said.

"We can take turns. You get to trip the next one."

"Sounds fair."

They made their way deeper into the tomb, taking it slow, watching for any sign of further traps. The next one wasn't hard to spot. It had already been sprung. A large stone blade, nearly as high as the chamber and hinged at the ceiling, was embedded in the wall, shrouded in cobwebs as everything else was.

"The mechanism must have failed," Sam said.

"A thousand years will do that."

They continued on and after another hundred feet or so began to detect an odd odor.

"You don't think it's someone…rotting?" Sam asked.

"No. It wouldn't be some_one,_ an animal maybe, but I don't think it's decay at all."

The smell continued to get stronger and shortly they came upon a stone stair that led up to an elaborately sculpted entryway, with large statues of the buried king on either side. They ascended slowly. The entryway led to a room large enough that Kit's light did not reach the other end. There was no floor. Instead there was a basin filled with a liquid that was producing the odiferous smell. A stone walkway a mere six inches in width ran across the basin, zigging, zagging, curling, and doubling back as it went. Kit crouched down and dipped his forefinger in the liquid, then rubbed it against his thumb.

"Oily. Petroleum of some kind."

"Don't light a match."

"No kidding. And when they built this they didn't have flashlights. They would have been using torches. That would make trying to cross this thing suicide. But even without the threat of an inferno, I wouldn't want to fall in."

"The walkway really helps with that. I wonder how deep it is?"

"Deep enough you don't want to find out."

"Well let's not dilly dally. Come on."

She gingerly stepped out onto the walkway. Carefully putting one foot in front of the other they made their way across. Many of the cutbacks were close enough together that hopping from one to another to avoid traversing them would have been possible. Possible, but inadvisable, and they weren't about to try it. After travelling at least three times the actual length of the basin, they finally made it across. In front of them was a small stone alcove, and a blank stone wall.

"Did we miss something?" Sam asked.

"No. There weren't any turns, any other passages. This has to be it."

"Maybe the map was a ruse. To lead someone _away_ from Devapala. If he was that obsessed with keeping the Light away from everyone else…"

"Possibly. But this still rings true. Think about it. The pyramids were built in advance of the Pharaohs' deaths. Decades in advance. That's why they're so elaborate. The same with the tombs for most famous kings. I'm sure there was some elaborate, intricate structure waiting for Devapala's death. And they probably buried someone there thinking he was Devapala. But the people who hid Devapala wouldn't have had that much time. Everything up to here was probably built _after_ he died. This whole place was probably just an ordinary cave until the people…the 'servants at Tuthra'…commandeered it for a secret tomb."

Kit shook his head and looked around. He pointed to either side of the alcove.

"Look: torches. No, he's here all right. There's a door here. We just have to find it."

He shrugged out of his pack and dug into it, retrieving a small rock hammer and handing his light to Sam. He used the pointed end to tap around on the wall. After several minutes he stopped and looked back at her.

"Here it is."

She stepped closer and he tapped again with the hammer.

"See , the stone here is different than the stone here."

He bore down and drug the point of the hammer between the two areas. A small portion crumbled away.

"And there's the masonry between them."

He began chipping away at it until he had found the outline of the door. It was roughly five feet tall and three wide.

"So how do we get in?" Sam asked.

"Only one way I know."

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

Sam also shrugged out of her pack and began rummaging around in it. Kit took two of the four torches that were hanging on either side of the alcove down, walked back to the basin, and dipped them in the oil. He lit them from a box of matches and hung them back up, then shut off the flashlight. Sam had dug a collapsible pickaxe from her pack, snapped it together, and was stripping out of her top shirt. Kit did the same. "Well, nothing to it but to do it," Sam said.

* * *

They were both exhausted, arms shaking, their fur crusted over with a mixture of sweat and stone dust. Earlier, Kit had removed his undershirt as well, but regretted it now. His entire upper body was caked, only Sam's head and arms were. It had taken almost an hour to break through the nearly eighteen inch thick door. It was constructed of three layers of bricks that were roughly 12 inches wide, eight inches tall, and six inches deep. It had taken well over a second hour to widen the opening enough to crawl through. Sam did so first. Kit handed her a torch and two pry bars from their packs, then followed her in.

The chamber was small, only about ten feet square. A small stone sarcophagus stood on a pedestal in the center of the room. It was a simple box, completely unadorned. Sam took a deep breath, let it out.

"Well…moment of truth," she said.

Kit cocked his head in a half nod and raised his eyebrows. Sam leaned the torch against the side of the sarcophagus and they set at the lid with the pry bars. In only a few moments it was off. They stood there, staring inside for several long moments.

"It's…it's…" Sam stuttered, disbelief on her face.

"It's really here," Kit finished for her.

The remains of the ancient king lay in as reposed a manner as a skeleton could. A few tattered scraps of cloth still clung to the bones here and there. His arms were folded across his chest. Beneath his crossed wrists was the Vessel of Gopala. It wasn't identical to any of the various renditions that had been done of it, but it could be nothing else. Gingerly, and then not so gingerly, Sam extricated it from the hands that had been clutching it for over a thousand years. Even dead so long, the king seemed reluctant to give up his treasure. Sam held it in wonder.

"I can't believe it's really real."

"Well, I have to point out that we haven't found what we're _really_ looking for yet."

A quick examination did not reveal a way to open the vessel.

"Let's get it out where there's more light."

They crawled back out of the tomb, and added the light of the flash to that of the two torches. A closer inspection revealed a faint seam around the middle of the statue. They tried pulling it apart to no avail.

"Try twisting," Kit suggested.

Sam gripped the statue at top and bottom, then twisted in opposite directions. Nothing happened, so she reversed the way she was twisting.

"I think I felt it give a little."

"Here, let me try." She handed him the vessel and he gripped it at both ends. He shook his head.

"You women, when will it end? Pickle jars, ketchup bottles, ancient statues containing dangerously powerful talismans. What would you do if all your men suddenly disappeared?"

"I don't know…throw a party and then invent a better bottle opener?"

He grunted with effort and was rewarded as the parts each rotated ninety degrees with a click. He smiled at Sam and held the vessel out to her.

"Maybe you should invent the bottle opener first. Otherwise it might be a dull party."

"You've got a point."

She slowly pulled the top off the statue. Nestled inside was a dull, cloudy blue rock about the size of a walnut.

"Sure doesn't look like much," Kit commented.

"No, it doesn't."

She upended the statue and the rock fell into her hand.

"It's not at all like I expected."

"Maybe it's not the-."

Sam suddenly gasped and flinched.

"What? What is it?" Kit asked with concern.

"I don't…I don't know." She shook her head, as though to clear it. "That was…weird."

"What was weird?"

"This feeling of…of…of I don't know. Never felt anything like it before."

"Could it be the Light?"

"No," she said firmly.

"Are you su-."

"I'm sure."

She smiled at him. "It's okay, Kit. It was just a funny feeling. We're in an ancient tomb, in the middle of an Indian jungle, near the end of a long stressful journey. And I just about died on the way in here. I think I can be allowed a funny feeling or two."

She switched the rock to her right hand and dug into a pocket with her left, attempting to hold the Vessel under her right arm. Kit reached out towards the statue. "Here, let me hol-."

"No, I've got it."

In a set of motions so fast and fluid they seemed like one, she stopped digging in her pocket, transferred the statue to her left hand, stuffed the rock in her right pocket, transferred the statute back into her right hand, and began digging again. She produced a large irregularly shaped piece of blue topaz roughly three-quarters the size of the Light. It wasn't gemstone quality, but was still quite clear.

"And that's for?"

"Hopefully nothing."

She tucked it into the niche in the statue, put it back together, then tucked it into Kit's pack.

"I'm more than ready to get out of here."

She picked up her top shirt and shook it out, put it on, and shrugged into her pack.

"You don't think we should close up that sarcophagus first? Be considerate grave robbers?"

"He's long past caring, along with anyone else who might. Come on."

She started towards the basin.

"Sam!" Kit said.

She stopped. He used both hands to indicate his bare chest.

"You think I could get myself together first?"

She looked momentarily surprised, then came back, throwing her hands in the air, laughing at herself.

"I don't know what I was thinking."

"You wouldn't have gotten far without the light anyway."

Her eyes widened and she quickly reached into her pocket.

"I meant this one, silly," Kit said, waving the flashlight.

He pulled on his safari shirt, but left the badly soiled undershirt where it was, then shrugged into his pack.

"Kit, look at this."

She held up the rock. It had cleared and was glowing dimly, but getting stronger.

"Well, I guess that's pretty good confirmation that it _is_ the Light of Buddha," he said.

He lit the flashlight, then banged both burning torches on the ground until they went out.

"Ready?"

She tucked the Light down into her knee high boot. "Ready."

Slowly, they made their way across the basin, and back out of the tomb. Kit retrieved the rope and carabiner after they used the safety line to cross the ledge. Sam laughed as the tomb began to brighten.

"Oh, I've never been so happy to see the sun in my entire life!"

She took Kit's hand and leaned close to his ear. "I'd kiss you if you weren't so damned filthy."

"Hey, you're no sunflower yourself."

They had to look down, squinting as they neared the mouth of the tomb. As their eyes adjusted to the bright light they looked up. They both froze. Sam inhaled sharply.

They were surrounded.


	6. Chapter 6 - Standoff

At least a dozen men with machine guns ringed the mouth of the tomb, most of them appeared to be natives. As one, Kit and Sam turned and took a single step back, but several more armed men were emerging from the gloom behind them. They turned back at the sound of an all too familiar deep voice.

"I don't advise you make any sudden moves. Some of these men don't understand English very well."

If not for his height and voice, Suscratchums might have been unrecognizable for lack of his expensively tailored suit.

"They might not understand that killing you is not in the plan. At least, not yet."

As unobtrusively as he could, Kit moved his hand towards his pistol. Suscratchums wasn't fooled.

"_That_ move is inadvisable at _any_ speed, Mr. Cloudkicker. You should be thankful the one I take orders from wishes to see you. He has barred me from causing either of you permanent damage unless given no other choice."

He stepped up to Kit, extended his claws, and wrapped his massive paw around Kit's throat.

"You should also be thankful that I always follow his orders to the letter, or in your case I would simply _say_ you gave me no other choice."

He took possession of Kit's pistol, then let go of his throat and raised a hand. A man wearing all black, despite the terrain, stepped up beside him as he confiscated Sam's pistol as well.

"Relieve them of their burdens. And search them."

The man removed their packs, then their belts, and set them on the ground. He motioned to two of his men, who came up behind Kit and Sam and held them both. The man in black then searched them both, none too politely. Kit began to protest when the man touched Sam in a wholly inappropriate manner, searching those areas a little _too_ thoroughly. Sam shook her head at him.

"Easy, Kit. It's okay."

The fire in her eyes clearly said it wasn't, but Kit listened to her. Luckily, as thorough as the man was, he didn't check inside their boots. The Light remained in their possession.

He upended Sam's pack, spilling the contents on the ground, and sifted through them. The Vessel was immediately obvious when he opened Kit's. He took possession of it, then dumped the remainder of his pack on the ground and sifted through it as well. When he finished, he stepped to Suscratchums and handed him the Vessel. He examined it, trying to determine how it opened.

"I thank you for all your hard work. I'm not sure how long exactly you were at it, but we've been waiting for you nearly three hours now."

He figured out how the vessel opened. His eyes widened at the sight of the "Light".

"Incredible."

He put the statute back together without so much as touching the topaz, then gestured at Kit and Sam.

"Tie them." The men holding them began to bind their wrists.

"We can't march through miles of jungle with our hands tied," Sam said. Suscratchums regarded her for a moment, then gestured to the man in black. He nodded to his men, who then backed away.

"I suppose you are correct. But keep in mind, if it was up to me, you would both be feeding the local wildlife. I will use the slightest excuse to put you down."

He gestured again to the man in black, who turned to the rest of the men and spoke rapidly in a foreign dialect. They rushed to where Kit and Sam's things were scattered on the ground and it was very quickly divided up.

"Move them out," Suscratchums ordered.

They set out, Kit and Sam in the middle of the group, Suscratchums and the man in black directly behind them. As they entered the jungle, Sam suddenly cried out and fell to her knees. Kit quickly moved to help her, but he was restrained.

"It's okay," she said as she was roughly pulled to her feet.

"I just…stepped in a hole. I'm fine."

Sam was not naturally a duplicitous person, so it was obvious to someone who knew her when she was lying. Even when she was in "Miss Beckett" mode and it was necessary, she had trouble doing it. Whatever had just happened, she had _not_ stepped in a hole.

From the condition of the jungle, they were going back the way they came in. A wide swath had been cut in the jungle, and it was made wider and clearer as they went back over it. The four of them did not speak, and there was only mild chatter between the rest of the group. Obviously, these were the same people whose path Kit and Sam had crossed on their way in. Had it been more direct, they might have gotten there first. They marched for nearly two hours, eventually emerging at a large clearing next to a river. Kit knew from their direction of travel, that it couldn't be the Ganges. However, he and Sam had passed a tributary that ran off to the east several miles south of where they beached their boat. This would have to be it. A large boat, three decks high and at least forty feet long, was partially beached on the bank. Several lines secured it. A rope ladder hung from the starboard bow, and they were forced up it. Once on deck, they were roughly shoved onto their butts.

Suscratchums climbed a steep stair to the upper deck and disappeared inside while the man in black oversaw the lines being hauled in. They heard the engines start, and after a few moments, they were throttled up so much they roared. There was a loud scraping sound as the boat slowly pulled itself back into the water. It bobbed as it finally came free of the shore and the engines were cut. They remained turning just above idle, apparently just enough to counteract the current, for the ship didn't move. They sat for maybe fifteen minutes, then Suscratchums reappeared above them, having changed back into a suit.

"Get them up," he ordered.

They were jerked to their feet and held still by four men, one on each of their arms. Suscratchums stepped to one side of the door he had just come out of. From the shadows emerged an elderly man of medium height, who walked slowly but purposefully, whose posture was perfect, and whose eyes were colder than those of a great white shark. He was holding the Vessel of Gopala.

"And just who the hell are you?" Sam asked.

Kit stared at her, surprised. The comment was both out of character for her, and not particularly advisable given their current situation. The man replied, his speech slow, but precise.

"Who I am is not your concern. However," he said, focusing on Kit, "Who _you_ are is of great concern to _me_."

"I don't see why."

The Gentleman looked at Suscratchums, who drew his Luger from a shoulder holster. He climbed back down to the main deck.

"This was supposed to be a very simple, straightforward operation. Our research indicated Miss Beckett would be cooperative if she believed we were Section 31. But we did not know about you, and you have disrupted this operation time and again. And you have personally embarrassed _me_. Twice. I do not enjoy being embarrassed.

"I want to know who you are, who trained you, and how you are involved in the search for the Light of Buddha."

Kit laughed. "I'm afraid you've got me all wrong Suscratchums. I'm nothing. Nobody."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you." He pointed the gun at Sam's head and spoke forcefully. "Tell me who you are."

He struggled against the men holding him. "Please! Don't!"

"Tell me."

"I mean it! I'm nothing! I'm just a cargo pilot. I work for Higher for Hire in Cape Suzette. Sam's my girlfriend. We met about a year ago when someone tried to rob her bank and I stopped him. I've just been acting the tough guy part. To throw you off. We decided to go after the Light together, after you told us there was a map. She wanted to fulfill her father's desire to destroy it."

"So then you were previously unaware of the map's existence?"

"Yes. We had no idea. We found it hidden in her dad's desk the next day. I'm telling you the truth! _Please_! Please don't hurt her."

Suscratchums looked back at the Gentleman. He had an amused expression on his face.

"Very well," he said.

He pressed a button on the wall beside him.

"Captain, take us out of here."

He turned back to Suscratchums.

"Mr. Suscratchums, I have not yet decided how to deal with Miss Beckett. Keep her around. As for Mr. Cloudkicker, deal with him in whatever manner you see fit."

He turned and disappeared back into the shadows. Suscratchums turned towards Kit with a cold smile.

"Don't you hurt him, you son of a bitch!" Sam shouted at him.

He ignored her and approached Kit. The boat's engines picked up speed, and they began creeping up the river.

"It's very rare that this business brings any genuine pleasure for myself. But I will thoroughly enjoy this."

"No!" Sam shouted.

Suscratchums gestured at the men holding Kit. They held onto him, but both stepped to the side. Suscratchums raised his pistol.

"_Don't_!" Sam screamed, struggling with the men holding her.

"Goodbye, Mr. Cloudkicker."

Kit looked at Sam. "Sam, I love you," he said.

Suscratchums shot him point blank three times in the chest. The men holding him let go and he dropped face first to the deck as though made of stone. All three shots had punched clear through. He was unquestionably dead.

"_Noooo_!" Sam wailed.

Suscratchums holstered his pistol and gestured at the men holding Sam.

"Take her below and secure her," he said.

He pointed at Kit's body. "Throw _that_ over the side."

"Suscratchums," Sam growled.

He turned towards her. He did a double take when he noticed her eyes were a radiant blue. He was certain that previously they had been green.

"You're going to burn. You hear me? You're going to _burn!_"

Suscratchums spontaneously combusted. He screamed in agony and terror, flailing his arms. His men watched in disbelief as he dropped to the deck and rolled around in an attempt to smother the flames. All he managed to do was spread them.

Sam threw her arms forward and the men holding her were jerked off their feet and sent flying across the deck. Concerned shouts of confusion and fear rose from the other men, mixing with Suscratchums' screams. The Gentleman reappeared, the man in black at his side, drawn by the commotion, unable to believe what he was seeing. Sam whirled to face him.

"You think you have the Light?" she shouted. "You don't! All you have is a worthless chunk of stone. The Light is _mine_!"

She threw her hands in the air and the entire upper deck of the boat erupted in flame. The crew began jumping over the side, fleeing both the boat and Sam. She ignored them as she knelt beside Kit and touched his face.

"Baby," she whispered. She looked around, suddenly realizing the precarious nature of her situation. She drug Kit to the rail, wondering how he could be so heavy when only moments ago she had tossed two men clear across the boat. She got both arms around him from behind, crossing them over his chest, and fell backwards into the river. He almost dragged her down, but she managed to stay afloat and sidestroke to the bank, pulling them both ashore.

Not surprisingly, none of the men who had safely gotten off the boat swam in her direction. The boat itself was almost fully involved but, burning from the top down, it was still afloat. It drifted past them, carried by the current. She ignored it and turned to Kit, placed her hands on his chest. The three wounds were small and neat, unlike the much larger jagged wounds in his back. Sorrow welled up inside her.

"Oh, Kit. My sweet, brave, heroic, Kit."

The loss was too great to bear. As much as she had loved her father, as much as she missed him, his loss was not nearly as devastating as this. Despite only having known him a few months, Kit was her whole world, everything that she had to live for. Now, she had nothing. She lay her head on her hands, crossed over his heart, and sobbed uncontrollably. Every fiber of her being burned with desire for the loss to be reversed. For a miracle.

Kit took a breath, coughed.

Sam jerked her head up. It was impossible. But his chest rose and fell as he took another. Certain she was hallucinating, she lifted her hands. His shirt was still torn and bloody. Her hands and sleeves were also still stained with his blood. But the wounds in his chest were gone.

"Kit?" she whispered, daring to hope.

He coughed again and opened his eyes, looked around groggily.

"Sam?"

She tried to say his name, but was suddenly choked by a huge lump in her throat.

"Sam? What…how?" he coughed again, looked up at her. "Sam…your eyes."

She managed to clear her throat. "What about them?"

"They're blue. Glowing."

She was confused for a moment. Kit tried to sit up. She helped him. And suddenly realized what had happened. She reached down into her boot and pulled out the Light of Buddha. It was lit from within, shining brightly.

"I thought I was dead."

Sam sobbed. She touched the bloody holes in his shirt.

"You were. Oh baby, you were. Dead as a stone."

She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, crying again, but this time with joy. She managed to pull herself together and broke the embrace.

"The Light?" Kit asked.

"The Light. It must have been."

"Where's the boat?"

"Gone. Destroyed. Along with everyone on it. I did it, with the Light."

"But how?"

"I don't know. After Suscratchums shot you…I was furious at them, raging."

She told him all that had occurred.

"It must have responded to my thoughts, my emotions. And then I was crying over you, wishing you were alive. And then you were."

"And your eyes were glowing, just like the Light. But they're back to normal now."

She held it up. There was a dull glow at its heart, but that was all.

"It must get brighter when you use it," Kit surmised.

"I don't care how it works. All I care about is that you're alive."

She hugged him tightly again.

"I don't know what I would've done. You're my everything Kit. My whole world. I couldn't live without you. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Sam. I love you, too."

She broke the embrace, took him by the shoulder, and looked in his eyes.

"We'll do it as soon as we get back."

"Do what?"

"Turn me into Mrs. Cloudkicker."

He smiled at her. "You sayin' you wanna put the manacle on me, Sheba?"

"That's right. You gonna be my main on the hitch."

"Groovy, I can dig it."

He tried to stand, Sam helped him up.

"But first we've got to get out of this jungle," he said.

"But how?"

"Follow the path they cut. I was looking for our ribbon as they marched us out here. I don't know how they missed it, or maybe they didn't care. But it stood out like a sore thumb. Then back to our boat, and back to the Duck."

"Then let's bounce, daddy-o."

"Wait.."

"What?"

Kit pointed. There, bobbing in the shallow water next to the shore was Kit's fedora.

"Well what do you know," Sam said.

Kit retrieved it, shook as much water from it as he could, and donned it.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

And it was just that easy. Three hours later they pulled the Jon boat up to the dock next to the Sea Duck. A man sitting on the pier jumped up and chattered excitedly. A dozen more men, all who were standing around the Duck, came up to them. Sam threw one of them a line and they tied it off.

"Looks like our guard recruited himself a security force," Kit commented.

Sam made good on her promise of an additional 2000 rupees, and then gave them the boat as well. They boarded the Duck, ready to be home. Kit dug in the toolbox and produced a 5 pound sledgehammer.

"What's that for?"

"For the Light. We can pound it into oblivion."

She looked hesitant.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"It…it can't be destroyed like that."

"How do you know?"

"I can…sense it. I'm not sure how. Almost like…like the Light speaks to me. Subconsciously."

Kit frowned. "I don't like the sound of that."

"It didn't at first. Just a…a kind of tickling sensation."

"The weird feeling you had in the tomb."

"Right! Exactly. And then later, as we were leaving the canyon-"

"The 'hole' you stepped in. Did it hurt you?"

"No! No, not at all. Just startled me. That's how it works. When you touch it the first time, it makes a connection. So it can hear your thoughts, feel your emotions. After that, as long as it's touching you somehow, it can respond to you."

"What did it do to you?"

She turned away from him. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine."

"How can I not worry? Some weird powerful rock is messing with my girlfriend's mind, my _fiancée's_ mind, and I'm not supposed to worry?"

"Trust me, Kit. I'm fine."

He touched her shoulder, turned her back to him. "I trust you, Sam. But I still worry. That's what a husband is _supposed_ to do."

She touched his face. "And you're going to be a _great_ husband. Even if you sometimes worry too much."

Kit took a deep breath. "Okay. So why can't we smash that thing?"

"It wouldn't work. It's from space. Part of a meteor. All of the rock burned away, but the heat couldn't harm the Light. And it's a hundred times harder than a diamond. You'd break the hammer first."

Kit looked at her a long moment, then nodded. "Okay then. Let's get out of here."

Kit chose to fly east, taking a Pacific route rather then returning the way they had come. At their next fuel stop, he unloaded the bike and rode them into town for a long overdue meal. Afterwards, he located a local library. When Sam questioned him, all he would say was that he needed a set of coordinates. Finally, they were underway.

They set out from Guam, bound for Midway, then Hawaii. Kit was unusually focused on his charts and stopwatch. Sam asked several times what he was up too, but he only answered "soon". Finally, he made a swooping turn, then installed the crowbar Baloo had labeled "autopilot" on the yoke.

"Come on," he said, getting up. Sam followed him into the hold, where he opened the rear hatch.

"Kit, what are you doing?" Sam shouted over the noise of the wind blowing through.

"We're over the Mariana Trench, Sam. Right over the Challenger Deep. Almost seven miles down, deepest place in the ocean."

"And?" Her expression said she knew _exactly_ what his intentions were.

"You've got to do it, Sam."

"_No_! I won't."

"You have to."

"We can't do it, Kit. The Light is too powerful…"

"Sam…"

"There's so many people we could help…"

"Sam…"

"So much good we could do…"

"_Samantha_!"

"Kit, we can't!"

"Don't you see, Sam? This is what the map warned us about."

"What do you mean?"

"The woe the map said would happen. 'He who bears the Light is borne by it.' But more accurately, 'the one who possesses the Light is _possessed_ by it'. It's controlling you, Sam."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "You don't have the first fucking clue what you're talking about."

"_Listen_ to yourself, Sam. You're not you. And you lied to me about not being able to destroy it."

"No I didn't." The lie was completely convincing.

"Yes you did! You're a terrible liar, Sam. I always know. But the scariest thing is that I almost missed it. You did it so smoothly, not like the Sam I know at all. And just now, I couldn't tell at all. If I hadn't already known, I would have believed you. The Light is changing you, Sam."

She stood up straighter and raised her chin defiantly.

"Yes, yes it is changing me. For the better." Her eyes were starting to glow with the blue intensity of the Light.

"It's not you, Sam."

"It will be. The Light will rebuild me. Better than I was before. Better, stronger, more powerful!"

"You have to destroy it, Sam. If you can't do it, give it to me, I'll do it for you."

"And _there_ it is!"

She approached Kit menacingly. He backed up, stepping towards the open cargo door.

"You don't want me to destroy the Light, you want it for yourself. Admit it!"

"No, Sam." He held his hands out to her, she slapped them away.

"I just want you back. The _real_ you. _My_ Sam. My fiancée, my future wife, my _love_."

She stopped. The radiance began to fade from her eyes.

"That's right, baby, come back to me."

The glow grew stronger again.

"You'll never have it," she said vehemently, backing him up another step.

"Then you'll never have _me_."

The glow started to fade again.

"Think, Sam. Think back to the river, how you felt on the bank there, before you brought me back to life. Think how you said you couldn't have lived without me."

The glow in her eyes was gone. She looked confused, conflicted.

"Well I can't live without _you_. I _won't_ live without you."

She took the Light out of her pocket. Looked at it. It shone with an almost blinding blue radiance. It was fighting her.

"Just set it down, Sam. Put it down."

He took a step towards the door.

"Put it down or I'll jump. I won't watch the Light destroy you. And I won't live without you."

Tears began streaming down her face, but she made no move to put the Light down. "Kit…" she said thinly.

"I love you, Sam. I love you. Come back to me. Come back."

She looked up at him, then back at the Light. Kit was as tense as a wound mainspring.

"Come back, Sam."

She looked back at him, lowered her arm, began to crouch. The Light glowed brighter.

"That's it, Sam. My love. My life. You can do it."

She opened her hand. Kit moved like lightning. Before the Light even hit the deck he rushed her, almost tackling her. She immediately began to struggle, but Kit muscled her into the cockpit and barred the door. She began pounding on it, screaming and cursing. The Light obviously still had some influence over her even though she wasn't touching it. He threw open the lid of the toolbox and grabbed the hammer. The Light began pulsing as he approached it and Sam's cries became more frantic. He knelt beside it, raised the hammer. Brought it down. Sam screamed.

The Light of Buddha shattered. Kit continued pounding it, turning it to dust that was swept away and out the door by the wind. He lay the hammer on the deck and stood. Sam was quiet.

He closed the cargo door and opened the cockpit door. Sam was lying on the floor, eyes glazed over. Kit rushed to her.

"Sam! Sam, can you hear me?"

She seemed catatonic. He hadn't thought that such a violent disconnection might hurt her. Her eyes were scary, vacant. Kit sat with his back against the pilot's seat and pulled her into his lap. He stroked her face, whispered softly to her. Told her all the ways he loved her, all the things he loved about her. He didn't worry about the Duck. It could run out of fuel, fly itself right into the ocean and kill them both. Without her he was dead anyway. Finally, after close to an hour, her eyes blinked. She made a gurgling sound in her throat. Kit talked faster, more intently, kissed her face over and over. Her eyes cleared. Focused on him.

"Sam, can you hear me?"

She blinked, nodded, looked around and swallowed.

"Yes, baby. I can hear you."

She tried to sit up and Kit helped her. "I've heard every word you said."

He was taken aback. "Everything?"

She smiled. "Well, except for the incoherent babbling. But I couldn't respond. It was like I was underwater. I couldn't say anything, or do anything."

"Well," he cleared his throat. "Some of that stuff was pretty, um…" He cleared his throat again. "Pretty mushy. I hope you don't think I'm any less manly."

She cupped his face with her hand.

"Baby, I'm not even sure you're a man at all anymore. But you want to know something?"

"What?"

She smiled lasciviously. "As soon as you say 'I do'…I'm gonna find out."

He smiled at her.

"That's the mezz, baby."

They kissed.


	7. Epilogue

Rebecca, Baloo, Molly, and Wildcat listened to their story in rapt wonder. It was so outrageous they would not have believed anyone else. Rebecca was mildly upset that Sam and Kit hadn't asked them to come along and help. But she understood that they weren't prepared to expose anyone else to such grave danger.

They were all ecstatic when they announced they would be getting married. And they wasted no time in doing so. It took a day to get their marriage license, but two days after they returned from India, they stood before Sam's pastor and took their vows.

They immediately left for their honeymoon, promising Baloo and Rebecca they would get the full two weeks they had been promised for theirs. And despite being able to pick anywhere in the world for their first night together as husband and wife, Sam insisted on returning to Kit's tiny Cape Suzette apartment.

"Because it's you," she explained. "And I want to be surrounded by you, immersed in you, _filled_ by you."

"Oh, now _that_," Kit said as he took her into his bed, "I'm definitely going to do."

* * *

_For you readers who, while humming along, found yourself stopping from time to time and wondering "did he get that from so and so", the answer is most likely "yes". Here is a list of all those little "shout-outs" (in order): _

_(from "Old Loves and New Flames" but included here) Sam (as in Samuel, not Samantha) is in honor of Dr. Beckett from Quantum Leap. _

_The suit Suscratchums is identified as wearing is by John Phillips, London. In "Die Hard", Hans similarly identifies the suit Takagi is wearing. "I hear Arafat buys his there." _

_The breakfront in Sam's office is the same as the one Bob Spaulding is so proud of in "The Proposal". _

_John Michael Kane was one of the aliases Jason was using in "The Bourne Identity". _

_Section 31 is a "black budget" division from Star Trek: DS9. _

_Sam's bank manager is named Defresne, referring to Andy in "The Shawshank Redemption". _

_In Dean Koontz's wildly popular "Odd Thomas" series, Odd has a completely reliable internal alarm clock that is 15 minutes slow. Odd, however, would set himself for 5:45 to awaken at 6:00. _

_Kit's comment that "just because you're paranoid don't mean they're not after you" is a direct quotation from Nirvana's "Territorial Pissings". _

_Trevor Linden is the name of one of the all-time great Vancouver Canucks. His #16 was retired by the organization in 2008, only the third retired number in the franchise. _

_The "man in black" is a "Princess Bride" reference. _

_Sam's assertion that the Light will rebuild her is from "The Six Million Dollar Man", though the actual quote is "faster", not "more powerful". _

_Oh, and there is a short section where a little known movie character named Indiana makes a cameo. You may have missed that part._


End file.
